Adenda written by Mario Bojórquez
Translated from the Spanish by Verónica González
I am the one Who in another time Was here To leave proof of His existence in this world But the old coolness The shadows of these trees And the wet darkness That sprinkles blackness on Warm cobblestone Do not know my name now Nor my face As if the one I was Had split in two And I were not I but another The one who plowed these skies With his glass prow The one who plowed and set sail To confront without eyes -blurred eyes- A faint memory I am the one Who finds everything new Who knows That everything he’s said in books And cities Is a vain reflection of What endures Beyond time And the one who Did not know about himself Who got lost in the abyss In useless disputes That refined his heart And sharpened his tongue But what a poor song For such artistry Of this fire! How far from the accent my hands are So cold For your warm thighs! I am that same one and I say That so many splinters on the edge cannot be named. Sawdust from filing On such disillusioned skin. And I say In a loud voice From pointed towers What cannot be said Not one small part An inaudible whisper From the awful mechanics That moves everything And makes the chest deeper With gravestone pressure On the smooth catafalque And I keep on being myself This one that one A worn out ball of thread At the bottom of the board On top of the wax paper The one who put together his bed From inflexible ropes The one who coughed and howled In his flesh and bones The same bone already Bare and incorruptible.