When I Die
Aquiles Nazoa
(Venezuela
1920 - 1976)
Nor burst into tears, shaking like a person about to sneeze;
Don't suffer fainting fits that will alarm the neighbors,
nor try to prevent them by buying "The Tears of Carmen."
Don't sit yourself down at the side of my coffin
Using your sisters-in-law like leaning boards;
And when anyone, my dear, draws near to give you condolences,
Don't open your arms in the pose of kiss me!
looks at my corpse and says that I'm just the same.
Act like one who doesn't hear, comprehend, or see
when someone says that my death is but a lie.
When I die, love, don't dress up like a widow:
I want to be a corpse like those in the poems of Neruda,
So don't doll yourself up in black, nor cry:
Tears are only for the dead in a poem by Julio Flores!
Don't even let it occur to you, my sweet, to make a great weep-fest
Each time they tell you that another floral wreath has arrived;
But also don't leave indescretion behind,
poking around to look at the names on the calling cards.
Don't shout, love, that you want me to take you with me
And that without me you are like a "book without a cover,"
Nor begin, with a heart-rending voice,
to divulge the details of my secret life.
When I pass along, my angel, don't do what everyone else does:
don't copy their ways, nor their styles;
Remember that although clouds of forgetfulness may make my name obscure,
at least the world will know that mine was a different kind of death.
Translator
cuando yo muera
ni llores sacudiéndote como quien estornuda,
ni sufras pataletas que al vecindario alarmen,
ni para prevenirlas compres gotas del Carmen.
No te sientes al lado de mi cajón mortuorio
usando a tus cuñadas como reclinatorio;
y cuando alguien, amada, se acerque a darte el pésame,
no te le abras de brazos en actitud de ¡bésame!
Hazte, amada, la sorda cuando algún güelefrito
dictamine, observándome, que he quedado igualito.
Y hazte la que no oye ni comprende ni mira
cuando alguno comente que parece mentira.
Amor, cuando yo muera no te vistas de viuda:
Yo quiero ser un muerto como los de Neruda;
y por lo tanto, amada, no te enlutes ni llores:
¡Eso es para los muertos esülo Julio Flores!
No se te ocurra, amada, formar la gran «llorona»
cada vez que te anuncien que llegó una corona;
pero tampoco vayas a salir de indiscreta
a curiosear el nombre que üene la tarjeta.
No grites, amada, que te lleve conmigo
y que sin mí te quedas como en Tomo y obligo,
ni vayas a ponerte, con la voz desgarrada,
a divulgar detalles de mi vida privada.
Amor, cuando yo muera no hagas lo que hacen todas;
no copies sus estilos, no repitas sus modas:
Que aunque en nieblas de olvido quede mi nombre extinto,
¡sepa al menos el mundo que fui un muerto distinto!