Book, when I close you
I open life…

Book, you were never able
to put me onto paper,
to fill me
with typography,
with heavenly printing,
you were never able
to bind my eyes,…

Book, set me free.
I don’t want to go dressed
in a volume,
I do not come from a tome,
my poems
haven’t eaten poems,
they devour
passionate happenings,
they are nourished on the outdoors,
they extract food
from the earth and men.
Book, let me walk on the paths
with dust in my shoes and without mythology:
return to your library,
I am going out into the streets.

I have learned about life
from life,
love I learned from a single kiss,
and I couldn’t teach anyone anything,
except what I have lived,
whatever I had in common with other men,
whatever I struggled for with them:
whatever I expressed of them all in my song.

Original Spanish follows

Libro, cuando te cierro
abro la vida…

Libro, tu no has podido
empapelarme
no me llenaste
de tipografia,
de impresiones celestes,
no podiste
encuadernar mis ojos…

Libro, dejame libre.
Yo no quiero ir vestido
de volumen,
yo no vengo de un tomo,
mis poemas
no han comido poemas,
devoran
apasionados acontecimientos,
se nutren de intemperie
extraen alimento
de la tierra y los hombres.
Libro, dejame andar por los caminos
con polvo en los zapatos
y sin mitologia:
vuelve a tu biblioteca,
yo me voy por las calles.

He aprendido
de la vida,
el amor lo aprendi de un solo beso,
y no pude ensenar a nadie nada
sino lo que he vivido,
cuanto tuve en comun con otros hombres,
cuanto luche con ellos:
cuanto exprese de todos en mi canto