One of those days we look
more hungrily than usual
at the bark of a tree
and the smell of gasoline
is a good smell
And we are not worried
about saving money
we live an infinite
moment
when we discover that we are
inevitably
going to die
We go to the cinema
planning to stroke
the thighs of a girlfriend
but it so happens
that what she and I see on the screen
makes us both cry
The first lights are turned on
Bank of London Chicles Clark
National City Bank
behind the curtain
the man and the woman look at each other
and put on their last pieces of clothing
There’s a look of ending in everything
when the first lights are turned on
The urchin suddenly bursts
through the door of the bus
hounded like a thief
he makes a quick show
gathers a few coins
and after hiding his booty
in his jacket
he escapes like a battered dog
when the day’s lava
covers us
something of his nasal voice remains
and a fragment of his song
The train advances tiredly
like a tortoise
breathing smoke and coal
the train will be scrap
everything will be dust and scrap
Do not tell me that living is a bad thing
even though something
deep down is wrong.
Not everyone knows
what happens during the day
to be alive is to have a date
in front of a checked tablecloth
or to say we’re going to the corner
to buy peanuts
It is good to sit in the shade
in the summer
to listen to the hammering of the panel beaters
who work in the barracks
far away.
To live is all right
for there is nothing more beautiful
than a worker mixing cement
a crane in the afternoon
or a young whore
washing her mouth
and dreaming about her town
lost in the blue
and balmy valleys
Or the old man going slowly
down the street
stopping often
and carrying a string
of red-golden fish
and the afternoon
swollen with whistles and birds
and a memory
redolent of tobacco and wood
(Mario Rivero)
