Cuando fui bipolar me creí Hamlet.
Cuando me abrí las venas me creí Romeo.
Cuando me volví celópata me creí Otelo.
Cuando me emputecí de envidia me creí Richard 3°.
Cuando me embrujó el poder me creí Macbeth.
Y ahora que estoy viejo y cascarrabias como Lear,
ahora que me acecha la guadaña,
vengo y me las doy de Yorick
y que Don Shakespeare me perdone.

To my daughter Constanza

I am the mountain wrapped in a mantle of clouds
I am the naked larch tree in the rain
I am the percheron haloed by a steam of sweat
I am the rain-soaked poncho of the taciturn labourer
I am the wheat stored in a safe place
I am the train track abandonad to its own destiny
I am the rusty peso of another age
I am the buffer stop at a train station loaded with sorrows
I am the bird of prey waiting in ambush for the rain to subside
I am the rabbit pricking up its ears at the water hole
I am the flickering lantern on a cart stuck in the mud
I am the axe wedged tightly in a stump
I am the fox yawning with hunger in its lair
I am the coipo buried deep in its tunnels
I am the steaming manure in the corral
I am the solitary boat tied to the pier
I am the tool tarnished by the blacksmith’s breath
I am the yellow cock pecking away nervously
I am the gardener´s dog growling without knowing why
I am the bolt of lightning that makes the mare neigh
I am the slippery moon like a mirror of the night
I am the wild indian crouched in the undergrowh
I am the bat suspended from the chapel´s beam
I am the smoke rising slowly from the hut
I am the weathervane on the rooftop turning in the harsh North wind
I am the intermittent dripping on the porch
I am the door that opens for the guest
I am the log whimpering as it is licked by flame
I am the child scribbling his homework by the hearth
I am the bitten and crumbled bread on the tablecloth
I am the streaming bowl of soup served by the mother
I am the blush in the cheeks of young girls sharing secrets
stretched out on their backs on bales of hay in the stable
I am the sap that palpitates inside the tree trunk
I am the thunder that cracks inside the rock
I am the blood that boils the length the human body
I am the silence that nurtures and instructs the heart
I am the soul of the earth like hot embers among the ashes