Elena Casals
MIS CAJAS DE CARTN / MY CARDBOARD BOXES
Las Poesias y Boleros de Elena Casals / The Poems and Boleros of Elena Casals

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MIS CAJAS DE CARTÓN


Por Elena Casals

Yo guardo en mi desván atesoradas
a través y a lo largo de mi vida,
“mi razón de vivir” yo las llamara;
son unas viejas cajas carcomidas.

Esperando por mí, porque las abra,
ponerme a revisar su contenido,
me han de traer recuerdos y resaca
que hasta el día de hoy, he detenido.

Pudieron escuchar junto conmigo
los ruidos de velorios y mudanzas
y de herencias perdidas, sin sentido,
las fotos de familia en esas cajas.

Cajas llenas de amor, fueron testigos
de los muchos proyectos en enjambre,
viajaron, se mojaron, se han herido,
pero guardan las trenzas de mi madre.

Ha llegado el momento cuando miro,
y no quiero ésta vez perder la calma,
los libros de mi padre y gran amigo
y unos versos…antiguos como el alma.

La muerte es una amiga cumplidora,
mis cajas de cartón ya están afuera,
cuidado si al pasar la moledora
un error familiar, las destruyera.

En un final, Rodaje de mi vida,
la cita que tenemos nunca falla;
mis cajas de cartón, todo lo dicen,
mis cajas de cartón, todo lo callan.

Miami, Florida 1998

 

MY CARDBOARD BOXES
By Elena Casals

I have saved in my attic
across the width and breadth of my life,
“my reason for living," I could call them;
some old crumbling cardboard boxes.

Waiting for me to open,
and rummage through their contents,
they are sure to bring back memories and undertows
that to this day, I have avoided.

They heard along with me
the commotion of wakes and the many moves,
fortunes and legacies that were lost, senselessly,
all the family photographs are in those boxes.

Boxes filled with love that were witness,
to all the many projects hanging in the air,
they traveled, they got soaked, they were wounded
but they guarded the braids of my mother.

The moment has come for me to look,
this time I don't want to lose my calm,
through the books written by my father, my great friend
and some verses... ancient as the soul.

Death is a dutiful friend,
my cardboard boxes are already outside,
lest the shredder as it passes
due to a familial blunder... destroys them.

In this final Sojourn of my life,
the appointment we have made is never canceled;
my cardboard boxes, tell everything,
my cardboard boxes, silence everything.

Miami, Florida 1998


 

 

 

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