• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 05
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s/t [for lack of an opportune inspiration]

even then it was not Cupid, nothing else
to add about that, but instead it was the triple
arrow of time that pinned me down
a good long time as a middle-aged
San Sebastian, mortally wounded
by entropies, although
I do admit that through the nights
after studying the high heavens,
I entertained myself searching for versions
of that same long unceasing complaint,
like this one, for example, of Alejandra Robles:
or that of Baby Rasta and Gringo
(and please forgive the reggaeton reference):
passing by this tiny gem
for all a/Ages:
even so, I went on to find one more version
that I finally stuck with,
is it not enough?, as a way of consolation
not for philosophy but for plain exhaustion
and in a hearty envy of others luckier

ps.1> you must remember: not about love (mine, yours)
but about this triple arrow of time,


s/t [for lack of an opportune inspiration]

yet finally, finally... deflected
by this little Buddha that we all
carry inside, quiet, pure...
because I already am not (and don’t even want to be)
in this poem –if our Zagajewski’s great line
is not misinterpreted by my poor memory -
this poem I have repeated so much to the point of tedium...

ps.2> curiosity: now that I retrieve
these cardioid reversals -made, through
obstinancy, a huge limaçon of Pascal -
I feel that I’d love to know which of these
tracks you preferred but am abstaining from asking
in favor of what has been said above far better...

[Translated by Lauren Fancher]