Old is the night

Joaquin has read lots of books; many of them I wish I had. But he's a real reader, I'm just a lazy dreamer. Anyway, he introduced me to Jaime Sabines, the mexican poet. Here's one by him, kind of translated later by the very same Mr. Fruitman:


Vieja la noche
by Jaime Sabines


Vieja la noche, vieja,
largo mi corazón antiguo.

¡Qué de brazos adentro
del pecho, fríos,
se mueven y me buscan,
viejo amor mío!

La noche, vieja, cae
como un lento martirio,
sombra y estrella, hueco
del pecho mío.

Y yo entretanto, ausente
de mi martirio,
entro en la noche, busco
su cuerpo frío.

No hay luna, locos,
desde hace siglos.
Sólo un breve milagro
cuando hace frío.


Old the night, old,
long my old heart.

An army of arms inside
my chest, cold,
moves and chases me,
my old love.

The night, old, falls
like a slow torture;
shadow and star, hole
in my chest.

Ignoring my doom,
I meanwhile
enter the night
looking for her cold body.

There's been no moon
for centuries, you fools.
Only one short miracle,
when it is cold.