Life Is Laughter Amid A Rosary Of

Even Money, Which Shines So Much, Spits Sometimes.

The Only Things That The United States Has Given To The World Are Skyscrapers, Jazz, And Cocktails. That Is All. And In Cuba, In Our America, They Make Much Better Cocktails.

I Was Lucky Enough To See With My Own Eyes The Recent Stock-market Crash, Where They Lost Several Million Dollars, A Rabble Of Dead Money That Went Sliding Off Into The Sea. Never As Then, Amid Suicides, Hysteria, And Groups Of Fainting People, Have I Felt The Sensation Of Real Death, Death Without Hope, Death That Is Nothing But Rottenness, For The Spectacle Was Terrifying But Devoid Of Greatness... I Felt Something Like A Divine Urge To Bombard That Whole Canyon Of Shadow, Where Ambulances Collected Suicides Whose Hands Were Full Of Rings.

Everyone Understands The Pain That Accompanies Death, But Genuine Pain Doesn't Live In The Spirit, Nor In The Air, Nor In Our Lives, Nor On These Terraces Of Billowing Smoke. The Genuine Pain That Keeps Everything Awake Is A Tiny, Infinite Burn On The Innocent Eyes Of Other Systems.

Variación / Variations El Remanso De Aire Bajo La Rama Del Eco. El Remanso Del Agua Bajo Fronda De Luceros. El Remanso De Tu Boca Bajo Espesura De Besos. * The Still Waters Of The Air Under The Bough Of The Echo. The Still Waters Of The Water Under A Frond Of Stars. The Still Waters Of Your Mouth Under A Thicket Of Kisses. Translated From The Spanish By Lysander Kemp