I do not want

I do not want to look for refuge in poetry
nor in fantasy start to fly
nor travel in the perfume of a single rose
nor journey in my boat through your seas

I want to be so crude, singular, and crazy
as you please in your nonsense – “chance” or “destiny”.
It is all this repugnant monstrosity
by which the hypocrites would wash your awareness of me.

My brothers do their good deeds,
giving like that, unleashing compassion.
This is my role, keeping the world
in apparent order. There will always be someone
who is happy not to be in my place.

I want to fall even lower, much lower still,
so far into the humiliation of my person
till I am so pathetic, inhuman, and fetid
that from compassion or reason they decide to liberate me.
The fools will say “kill”, of course.
I am above their cruelty!

(Cartes desde el infierno, p 147)

This one has some tough bits, so I’m not even 70% sure of the translation. It doesn’t help that I haven’t done this in a while, and meanwhile I’m steadily forgetting my Spanish. Still, I’m pretty sure I have the gist – and it’s a striking, powerful poem.

Friend

Friend – who prevents you from fulfilling dreams
of soaring in flight past fear,
who now does not question the meaning of life
but that is in life its pain?

Above all the fear you start anew.
The eternal is always, always a new beginning.
Begin to live, begin to die,
and between certainty and doubt begin to dream.

In dreaming we begin to believe in life.
In love we begin to believe in death.
And every lover thinks about the search for love
further on when love is lost.

This is from Cartes, p 59. A couple of notes: the title is “Amiga” – that is, the feminine variant of “friend” – but using “girlfriend” in translation sounded trite. Also, the first verse was quite difficult, so I am not sure I have it right; in particular, I am not sure of the subject of the questions.

As a bonus, on the facing page Sampedro writes:

Quality of life is due to a pleasant agreement, a perceptible harmony of the body and mind with all conditions and subjects of personal feelings. When there is no longer a fear of death, death is the only rational alternative by which to free a life from suffering. When there is no quality of life, when the chaos is total, there is no better alternative than the disintegration of the material to be reborn.

For those unfamiliar with Sampedro’s work, it may help to know that he was a quadriplegic (he wrote using a pen held in his mouth) who fought in the Spanish courts for his right to die. The Sea Inside is about his life, struggle, and death; it’s an excellent film.

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