Afterwards…
the bloody moon and your emotion,
knowing that the end is coming
Later…
unfathomably,
your eyes, so empty,
weeping painlessly.
And afterwards…
the enormous night
in the windowpane,
and you tire of life
and I long to fight.
Later…
your skin like snow
and in an airy absence
your pale end.
Everything returns from memory:
your pain and your silence
your anguish and your mystery.
Everything plunges into the abyss of the past:
your name, repeated,
your doubt and your weariness.
A shadow stronger than death,
a scream lost in oblivion,
a step back from the edge of ruin,
a song torn to pieces
that still remains a song.
Afterwards…
forgetting will come or it will not…
and I will lie so I can laugh
and I will lie so I can cry.
Clumsy
ghost of the past
dancing on a pile of intrigues
for a chance to forget.
And afterwards,
in the silence of your voice
the pain of solitude will come
and I will scream just to stay alive…
as though I flee from those memories,
repentant,
just so I can die.
Homero Manzi [Homero Nicolás Manzione Prestera] (1907 - 1951) Argentina
Translated by Derek Del Pilar
Source: The Poetry of the Tango
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