Venice masks

Saturday, 29 March 2025

The witch - Francisco Gorrindo

Drowning this scream
that rises up from my chest
and arrives on my lips full of malice,
I return to your side, with my hands tied,
but only to tell you that it’s over,
that I don’t care anymore
about your laughs or your tears,
that by a feat of courage
I conquered my heart,
and today more than ever,
taking a closer look at you,
I can see you for who you truly are:

The witch
who yesterday was queen
of my whole being,
now that the spell is broken
is nothing more than a woman.

The witch,
a pile of crazy whims
that enslaved me
is today a landscape covered with horror.

I commit myself to a simple, moral life
I commit myself to a noble, loyal love,
and perhaps one day, my soul will be cured
by manly strength I will build a home.

Then maybe I will have redeemed myself
and by that time you, who knows what you’ll be—
a scrap of winter, covered with ailments,
the remains of a life, a tiny little cough

Francisco Gorrindo (1908 - 1963) Argentina
Translated by Derrick Del Pilar
Source: Poesía de gotán: The Poetry of the Tango

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