Mario Benedetti: At a Distance

When ever so wary
I stand at a distance

from me

and glimpse myself

as mere object

rudimentary lump

of matter

from my tiny box in the theater

of the universe

the mere trinklet I am

my insignificance

though at odds

with me

gives rise to

a cosmic sadness

an infinite queasiness

then with utmost urgency

I come back to me

so as to forget

my dwarfishness

and think I'm something

somebody

--translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Benedetti: Hatred Comes and Goes

Hatred comes goes returns
I look on dumbfounded
it drifts by like a trail of smoke

like a shadow

like sorrow

back and forth it paces

baffled caged frenzied

stalking the rosy clouds of oblivion

like a plague

like an echo

it heads this way backtracks lunges

a steely blade of silence

slowly tearing me to shreds

like a sob

like a blind man

and yet and yet

sometimes it can be a reward

when I don't answer hatred with hatred

that brings comfort

well deserved

Mario Benedetti: A Tale of Vampires

There once was a vampire who drank water
at midnight and daybreak
at noon and dinner too

where blood was concerned

he was a teetotaler

to the considerable chagrin

of the other vampires

and their consorts

come hell or high water he was determined

to form a flock

of vampires anonymous

he campaigned under the waning

and the full and crescent moon

with simple sings declaring

drink water vampires

blood causes cancer

naturally all the chiroptera

assembled in their agora of darkness

decided this was out of the question

why that raving lunatic

might win over the half-hearted vampires

who washed their blood down with herb tea

so one night

with storm clouds on the horizon

five die-hard vampires

thirsty for erythrocytes leucocytes and platelets

surrounded the batty rebel

and put an end to him and his effrontery

when the moon finally

showed its face     it saw down below

the hapless corpse of the anonymous vampire

lying in a huge puddle of water

formed by his five gushing wounds

what the moon didn't see

was that the five perpetrators

who had hidden in a treetop

were admitting in spite of themselves

that the stuff didn't taste so bad

since that historic night

neither vampires nor their consorts

have sucked blood     they resolved

unanimously to switch to water

as tends to happen in such cases

the remarkable anonymous vampire

is now revered as a martyr

-- translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Benedetti: Abrigo

Cuando sólo era
un niño estupefacto

viví durante años

allá en colón

en casi un tugurio

de latas

fue une época

más bien

miserable

pero nuna después

me sentí tan a salvo

tan al abrigo

como cuando empezaba

a dormirme

bajo la colcha de retazos

y la lluvia poderosa

cantaba

sobre el techo

de zinc

Mario Benedetti: Shelter

When I was
just a wide-eyed boy

I lived for years

out in colón

in little more than

a corrugated 

shack

those days

were on

the grim side

but never again

did I feel as sheltered

as safe from harm

as when I'd drift off

to sleep

under my rag blanket

to the song of

the mighty rain

on the tin

roof

-- translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Benedetti: Turning Point (EN)

I was only young
'til yesterday

starting today

I'm old

from queasy well-being

to easy malaise

just the slightest

swing

in any case

I acknowleded the change

with a sharp

comical pain

that began in my left

forearm

and paused ever so briefly

near my heart

but the celebration

didn't end

there

I also 

felt faint

just a bit faint

while a few thoughts

crossed my mind

which of course

are 

confidential.

-- translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Benedetti: Turning Point (ES)

Sólo hasta ayer
fui joven
hoy
empecé a ser viejo

desde el mal bienestar
hasta el buen malestar
una modesta
oscilación

de todos modos
celebré el cambio
con un dolor intenso
divertido
que comenzó en el antebrazo
izquierdo
y se quedó un instante
junto al corazón

pero el festejo
no terminó
ahí

también
tuve un mareo
un ligerísimo mareo
durante el cual
pensé dos o tres cosas
que por supuesto
son
confidenciales.

Mario Benedetti: Summer

I'm calling it quits for today
that's it

I'm through working

blame it on the sky

compelling like a river

blame it on the air

avid and unchanging

thta's it

I'm through working

my fingers are limp

my head is miles away

my eyes are abeam

with dreams

don't ask me why

I'm tired of staring at walls

that's it

I'm through working

fussy walls always quibbling

demanding

irate

pathetic bare walls with

just a calendar and a date

that's it

I'm through working

how slowly the pages turn

it's only mid-June.

I thought I was through for the day

but now the phone is ringing

yessir berightthere

certainly wheneveryoulike.

-- translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Benedetti: Canasta

Hoy salí con la canasta
para juntar estímulos de vida
pero no siempre ocurren
o concurren

el cielo es todo nubes
para qué voy a mirarlo
en los zaguanes no hay amantes
y en las miradas no hay preguntas

me siento solo como un islote
al que ni siquiera llegan náufragos

un poema ajeno me hace compañía
pero hay un hemistiquio que me molesta
y no me atrevo a sustituirlo
sería una falta de respeto

ni siquiera tengo una cámara
para fotografiar las esperanzas
las de los otros por supuesto

me enfrento ahora
con una copia de un pintor mío
y mansamente respiro azul

en un estante casi ausente
hay un Vivaldi y un Gardel
en algún soplo
despertaré sin mis temores
y podré entrar en esas tiendas
pero hoy no puedo

me siento casi sordomudo
para la música y las caricias
miro hacia abajo
hacia mis palmas
y la canasta sigue vacía

Mario Benedetti: Shopping Basket

Today I went out with my basket
to stock up on ways to lift my spirits
but they're not easy to come by
or come across

the sky is nothing but clouds
why bother looking up
in the entryways there are no lovers
in others' gazes no questions

I'm as lonely as a tiny isle
where not even castaways set foot

I've got someone else's poem for company
but there's a hemistich I find annoying
and I don't dare replace it
that would be rude

I don't even have a camera
to snap pictures of this or that hope
other people's of course

I'm face-to-face now
with a print by a favourite painter
and meekly I inhale its restful blues

on an almost nonexistent rack
I spot Vivaldi and Gardel
perhaps in a little while
I'll wake up without my gloom
then I can rummage through those shops
but today I can't

I feel almost like a deafmute
when it comes to music and caresses
I look down
at the palms of my hands
and my basket is still empty

--translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Benedetti: Despabílate amor

Bonjour buon giorno guten morgen,
despabílate amor y toma nota,
sólo en el tercer mundo
mueren cuarenta mil niños por día,
en el plácido cielo despejado
flotan los bombarderos y los buitres,
cuatro millones tienen sida
la codicia depila la amazonia.

buenos días good morning despabílate,
en los ordenadores de la abuela onu
no caben más cadáveres de ruanda
los fundamentalistas degüellan a
extranjeros,
predica el papa contra los condones,
havelange estrangula a maradona

bonjour monsieur le maire
forza italia buon giorno
guten morgen ernst junger
opus dei buenos días
good morning hiroshima,

despabílate amor
que el horror amanece.

Mario Benedetti: Wake Up Love

Bonjour buon giorno guten morgen
wake up love and take note
in the third world alone
forty thousand children die each day
in the calm cloudless sky
bombers and buzzards are floating
four million people have AIDS
greed is stripping the amazon basin bald

buenos dias good morning better wake up now
on the computers of grandma UN
there's no room for all the corpses from rwanda
fundamentalists are slitting the throats of foreigners
the pope is preaching against condoms
havelange has the squeeze on maradona

bonjour monsieur la maire
forza italia buon giorno
guten morgen ernst junger
opus dei buenos días
good morning hiroshima

come on wake up love
horror's back with the dawn

--translated by Louise B. Popkin

Mario Bemedetti: Chau número tres

Te dejo con tu vida 
tu trabajo 
tu gente 
con tus puestas de sol 
y tus amaneceres. 

Sembrando tu confianza 
te dejo junto al mundo 
derrotando imposibles 
segura sin seguro. 

Te dejo frente al mar 
descifrándote sola 
sin mi pregunta a ciegas 
sin mi respuesta rota. 

Te dejo sin mis dudas 
pobres y malheridas 
sin mis inmadureces 
sin mi veteranía. 

Pero tampoco creas 
a pie juntillas todo 
no creas nunca creas 
este falso abandono. 

Estaré donde menos 
lo esperes 
por ejemplo 
en un árbol añoso 
de oscuros cabeceos. 

Estaré en un lejano 
horizonte sin horas 
en la huella del tacto 
en tu sombra y mi sombra. 

Estaré repartido 
en cuatro o cinco pibes 
de esos que vos mirás 
y enseguida te siguen. 

Y ojalá pueda estar 
de tu sueño en la red 
esperando tus ojos 
y mirándote.

Mario Benedetti: Roster

On my roster of happy things
just a few stand out for me /
sparkles in drabness
beauty in ugliness
the pulsing of rocks
and most of all most of all
your steadfast heart
that I touch with mine

(translated by Louise B. Popkin)

Mario Benedetti: Asamblea

En mi asamblea de ilusiones
sólo hay algunas que me importan /
el centelleo de lo pálido
y la hermosura de lo feo
las pulsaciones de la roca
y sobre todo sobre todo
tu corazón ese impasible
que yo enternezco con el mío

Mario Benedetti: Sonata for Farewell and Flute

You're going off as alone as ever
you're sure to be missed by all
our twilight embraces will miss you
and I and my body and soul

your long shadow is reluctant
to desert us / albeit
you've decided to take it with you
whatever the risk

in any case I'd never want you
to lay your dream to rest
that dream where your love of no one
was like an all-time first

you're off yet again I don't know where
and your farewell is an echo
that lingers and speaks your name
as a final gesture

you've never kept your tenderness
for later on like bread
I'm always sure to find it
tucked loosely between your breasts

you act like you've been defeated
but I find that hard to believe
you've always won the war of words
against hatred and fear

who knows what awaits you out there
in that far-off barren place
where there are no more swallows
only winter / only waste

but should you stray off course at twilight
between your mirror and the sea
please don't ever forget that I
and my soul and my body are here

(translated by Louise B. Popkin)

Mario Benedetti: Sonata para adios y flauta

Te vas tan sola como siempre
te echaremos de menos
yo y los abrazos de la tarde
yo y mi alma y mi cuerpo

tu larga sombra se resiste
a abandonarnos / pero
has decidido que se fuera
contigo a todo riesgo

de todos modos no querría
que enterraras tu sueño
aquel en que tu amor de nadie
era como un estreno

te vas de nuevo no sé a dónde
y tu adiós es un eco
que se prolonga y nos alude
como un último gesto

nunca guardaste la ternura
como pan para luego
estoy seguro de encontrarla
liviana entre tus pechos

te vas con paso de derrota
pero no me lo creo
siempre has vencido en tu querella
contra el odio y el miedo

quién sabe allá lo que te aguarda
ese allá tan desierto
que se quedó sin golondrinas
todo erial/ todo invierno

mas si una tarde te extraviaras
entre el mar y el espejo
recuerda siempre que aquí estamos
yo y mi alma y mi cuerpo

Mario Benedetti: Moods

A happy
man
is but one more
in the choir
of happy
people

a sad
one
is sad
like
no
other

(translated by Louise B. Popkin)

Mario Benedetti: Talantes

Un hombre
alegre
es uno más
en el coro
de hombres
alegres

un hombre
triste
no se parece
a ningún otro
hombre
triste

Mario Benedetti: Heaven

Our torturers are generally catholic
they believe in the holy trinity
and martyr their fellow creatures as a means
of combating the antichrist
but when they die they don't go to heaven
because murderers aren't allowed there

their victims on the other hand are martyrs
and might even be angels or saints
they'd rather be buthcered than be traitors
but they don't go to heaven either
because to them there's no such thing.

(translated by Louise B. Popkin)