Julian Herbert – McDonald’s

 

Never fall in love 1 kilo

ground beef.

Never fall in love with the table set,

from meats, vessel

she kissed insistent mouth

iced tangerine, powder:

Instant.

Never fall in love with this

love powder, cough

Life of a name (Ana,

Claudia Tania: does not matter,

die every name), a flame

drowning. Never fall in love

another sonnet.

Never fall in love with blue stockings,

blue veins of below average,

thigh meat, that

meat as superficial.

Never fall in love with the cook.

But you’ll never fall in love, too,

either,

Sunday football, fast food,

nothing in mind but the ropes as cots.

Never fall in love with death,

his lust maid

your dog cruelty,

Touch your midwife.

Never fall in love in hotels,

simple past, paper

letterhead, porn movies,

in fulminating eyes celestial graves

clandestine speak in boleros, carrying

Denis de Rougemont.

The speed, in alcohol,

in Beatrice,

in the pan:

never fall for 1 kilo of ground beef.

Never.

No.

*

and in original text

 

Nunca te enamores de 1 kilo

de carne molida.

Nunca te enamores de la mesa puesta,

de las viandas, de los vasos

que ella besaba con boca de insistente

mandarina helada, en polvo:

instantánea.

Nunca te enamores de este

polvo enamorado, la tos

muerta de un nombre (Ana,

Claudia, Tania: no importa,

todo nombre morirá), una llama

que se ahoga. Nunca te enamores

del soneto de otro.

Nunca te enamores de las medias azules,

de las venas azules debajo de la media,

de la carne del muslo, esa

carne tan superficial.

Nunca te enamores de la cocinera.

Pero nunca te enamores, también,

tampoco,

del domingo: futbol, comida rápida,

nada en la mente sino sogas como cunas.

Nunca te enamores de la muerte,

su lujuria de doncella,

su sevicia de perro,

su tacto de comadrona.

Nunca te enamores en hoteles, en

pretérito simple, en papel

membretado, en películas porno,

en ojos fulminantes como tumbas celestes,

en hablas clandestinas, en boleros, en libros

de Denis de Rougemont.

En el speed, en el alcohol,

en la Beatriz,

en el perol:

nunca te enamores de 1 kilo de carne molida.

Nunca.

No.

 

ROBERTO BOLAÑO – LISA

When Lisa told me she had made ​​love
Another, in the life of that phone booth
Tepeyac store , I thought the world
He had for me. A tall skinny guy and
With long hair and a long dick that did not wait
Over an appointment to penetrate to the bottom.
There is something serious , she said , but
The best way to get you out of my life.
Parmenides Garcia Saldana had long hair and had
Been the lover of Lisa , but some
Years later I learned that he had died in a psychiatric clinic
Or that he had committed suicide . Lisa and I did not want
Go to bed with losers. Sometimes I dream
With her and see her happy and cold in Mexico
Designed by Lovecraft. We listen to music
( Canned Heat , one of the preferred groups
Parmenides Garcia Saldana ) and then we
Love three times . The first came inside me
The second came in my mouth and the third , just a thread
Water , a short fishing line, between my breasts. And all
In two hours, said Lisa . The two worst hours of my life,
I said from the other side of the phone.