Gustavo Gac-Artigas
i was born old
instead of playing i loved to observe the world
i learned to walk to escape my destiny
caresses awakened my body
blows shielded my feelings
instead of possessing i tried to love
my back bent to write
my back bent to read
my back bent under the weight of other people’s pain
i was born old
i tried to transform crying into laughter
when falling i thought twice before getting up
knowing i would fall again
stepping on dangerous ground
they tried to teach me safety
and i chose danger
they wanted to standardize me
and i preferred difference
they wanted to teach me that life is sweet
sweet as honey
sweet as the voice of the beloved
sweet as the wind whistling in my ears
sweet as water running downhill
they wanted to teach me that sweetness was our destiny
and yet i preferred salt
the salt that weathers the face
the salt that sprinkled the face of my beloved
the salt that burned in my wounds
the salt of sweat falling from my body
the salt that roamed the desert
mixing with the dust of the dead
i was born old
i preferred to know reality
than to be told fairy tales
today
an old man
i wait for my death
trying to be the child i never was
From: hombre de américa/man of the americas
Publisher: Nueva York Poetry Press, New York, United States, 2022
nací viejo
nací viejo
en vez de jugar me gustaba observar el mundo
aprendí a caminar para escapar a mi destino
las caricias despertaron mi cuerpo
los golpes blindaron mis sentimientos
en vez de poseer intenté amar
mi espalda se curvó para escribir
mi espalda se curvó para leer
mi espalda se curvó bajo el peso del dolor ajeno
nací viejo
intenté cambiar el llanto por la risa
al caer pensaba dos veces antes de levantarme
sabía que volvería a caer
pisaba terrenos peligrosos
quisieron enseñarme la seguridad
y preferí el peligro
quisieron uniformarme
y preferí la diferencia
quisieron enseñarme que la vida es dulce
dulce como la miel
dulce como la voz de la persona amada
dulce como el viento silbando en mis oídos
dulce como el agua corriendo vertiente abajo
que la dulzura era nuestro destino
y sin embargo preferí la sal
la sal que curtía el rostro
la sal que poblaba el rostro de mi amada
la sal que ardía en mis heridas
la sal del sudor que caía de mi cuerpo
la sal que recorría el desierto
mezclándose con el polvo de los muertos
nací viejo
preferí ver la realidad
a que me contaran cuentos de hadas
hoy
viejo
espero la muerte
intentando ser el niño que no fui
From: hombre de américa/mano of the americas
Publisher: Nueva York Poetry Press, New York, United States
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i was born old
instead of playing i loved to observe the world
i learned to walk to escape my destiny
caresses awakened my body
blows shielded my feelings
instead of possessing i tried to love
my back bent to write
my back bent to read
my back bent under the weight of other people’s pain
i was born old
i tried to transform crying into laughter
when falling i thought twice before getting up
knowing i would fall again
stepping on dangerous ground
they tried to teach me safety
and i chose danger
they wanted to standardize me
and i preferred difference
they wanted to teach me that life is sweet
sweet as honey
sweet as the voice of the beloved
sweet as the wind whistling in my ears
sweet as water running downhill
they wanted to teach me that sweetness was our destiny
and yet i preferred salt
the salt that weathers the face
the salt that sprinkled the face of my beloved
the salt that burned in my wounds
the salt of sweat falling from my body
the salt that roamed the desert
mixing with the dust of the dead
i was born old
i preferred to know reality
than to be told fairy tales
today
an old man
i wait for my death
trying to be the child i never was
From: hombre de américa/man of the americas
Publisher: 2022, Nueva York Poetry Press, New York, United States
i was born old
instead of playing i loved to observe the world
i learned to walk to escape my destiny
caresses awakened my body
blows shielded my feelings
instead of possessing i tried to love
my back bent to write
my back bent to read
my back bent under the weight of other people’s pain
i was born old
i tried to transform crying into laughter
when falling i thought twice before getting up
knowing i would fall again
stepping on dangerous ground
they tried to teach me safety
and i chose danger
they wanted to standardize me
and i preferred difference
they wanted to teach me that life is sweet
sweet as honey
sweet as the voice of the beloved
sweet as the wind whistling in my ears
sweet as water running downhill
they wanted to teach me that sweetness was our destiny
and yet i preferred salt
the salt that weathers the face
the salt that sprinkled the face of my beloved
the salt that burned in my wounds
the salt of sweat falling from my body
the salt that roamed the desert
mixing with the dust of the dead
i was born old
i preferred to know reality
than to be told fairy tales
today
an old man
i wait for my death
trying to be the child i never was
From: hombre de américa/man of the americas
Publisher: 2022, Nueva York Poetry Press, New York, United States
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