lunes, 2 de septiembre de 2019

Left Out

Carmen married Alfonso
and they forgot my invitation.
I don’t know if it was left in a drawer
crammed with useless little items,
or maybe they didn’t even write it.

Pablo celebrated with songs
the great news of his anniversary,
neither he nor his wife
remembered a line to share with me,
or maybe they didn’t even write it.

On the waiting list for
my subsidy every month
they left out my name,
I’m not sure if they knowingly omitted it,
or if it was a simple mistake.
And they didn’t send the letter to confirm my retirement.
Or maybe they didn’t even write it.

The old mates got together
to remember our younger days,
and they drank a toast to that sparkle
that the sun’s reflection gave us
in our smile.
They made a record of it by engraving their names
in the stump of the tree which gave us shade
when we were growing up.
And all the signatures were there
except for mine,
which somebody probably erased, half-heartedly,
or, maybe they didn’t even write it.


Traducción del poema Fuera.
© Susana Romera.



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