While You Breathe In Your Office, Translation Of Carlos Bousono's Poem: Mientras En La Oficina Respiras
(from the collection: Las monedas contra la losa; 1973)
While you breathe in your office, yawning and abandoning yourself, or dictate in your
class a lesson
in front of strange students who contemplate you without blinking, still feeling sleepy
in the early hours;
while you talk, while you gesticulate in the café,
or remaining immobile, you concentrate on your meditation
of your desk, or reclining in the hollow of the sofa
you review without haste remembrances of your life;
while remaining quiet you sink deep in the vision of an
interminable plain, or while writing a word slowly and you recreate
in your soft voice, in your loving reality;
you fall, you’re falling backwards, broken in the mountains,
you’re rolling among stones and cactuses down the abrupt slope
towards a ravine in which runs a river,
rapid as the wind the river runs,
you’re wounded in the mouth, in the hands, in the chest,
you bleed in one ear, you fling yourself from a high rock,
head hanging down,
with your legs like an open compass,
towards the depths, already with your bones broken,
hand and mouth stiffening, towards the abysm below,
you write the slow word, you concentrate, you murmur,
in the café you enter into discussions, very slowly
you smile, you advance a noble reason,
you cite an adornment, a roof, a golden embroidery,
talking to the low benches in your deserted class,
where everybody is hanging his head.
© T. Wignesan – Paris,2013
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