El frío (EXCERPT)

2.

And absence is the absence of some voice, and in absence there is no temperature,

since it is only for the reunion of a thing and itself that the temperature appears, and later time’s unfolding makes itself felt

–and to make sense of such questions, I imagine my face is a face identical to yours,

the same goes for finding you, but I have to take in the burning aroma

–the day when the sky spreads out and the stars fall into the city,

some metal, one of your eyes, a certain light, will have to fall into my hands,

one way or another I will have to know what became of you and what became of the fog;

to listen to your words and what you say, I do not know what I would give, I am dying to touch with you the end of things

–I am dying to know what is said, what is not said and what would like to be said of your adventures.

*

2.

Y la ausencia es la ausencia de alguna voz, y en la ausencia no hay temperatura,

pues solamente por la reunión de una cosa con ella misma aparece la temperatura, y luego se hace perceptible el transcurrir del tiempo

–y para explicarme tales cuestiones me imagino que mi cara es una care idéntica a la tuya,

lo mismo que para encontrarte, pero necesito sentir el olor a quemado

–el día en que el cielo se difunda y las estrellas desciendan sobre la ciudad,

de algún modo tendré que saber qué fue de ti y qué fue de la niebla;

por escuchar tus palabras y decires y no sé qué daría, me muero por tocar junto a ti el final de las cosas

–yo me muero por saber lo que se dice, lo que no se dice y lo que quisiera decirse de tus aventuras.

—

from Two Poems by Jaime Saenz–published by Action Books

Buy it here

—

Jaime Saenz (b. La Paz, 1921; d. La Paz, 1986) was the preeminent literary voice of twentieth-century Bolivia. An unashamed bisexual and poète maudit non-pareil, Saenz mapped the psychogeography of La Paz as a city animated with the spirits of the Andes and the Andean people, magic, and poetry. As maestro to a devoted cadre of young writers, Saenz precipitated a new generation of Bolivian literary production through his nocturnal gatherings, “The Krupp Workshops.” He remains one of South America’s most mystical, controversial, and enduring writers.

Kit Schluter is author of Cartoons and Pierrot’s Fingernails, and has recently translated books by bruno darío, Copi, Mario Levrero, and Olivia Tapiero. He lives in Mexico City.