EL OBJETO INANIMADO

 En mis largas conversaciones nocturnas con los carceleros, volví a plantear la cuestión del objeto: ¿permanece indiferente, lo percibamos o no? (Tenía en mente el objeto oculto y póstumo que encontraron al fumigar y barrer la celda recién vacía.)
“Como un demonio de madera tallada con material de alguna pesadilla”, dijo uno. “Como una escritura cifrada”, dijo otro. Bebíamos una cerveza casera que nos mareaba. “Como cuando un botón del cuello cae sobre el piso y apenas hace ruido” dijo el tercero con una sonrisa, pero yo no dije nada.
“Si tan solo pudiéramos dejar una pequeña marca para alertar a los demás”, pensé para mí.
A todo esto, yo tenía mi botella rota para preocuparme. Era verde, con un borde cortante, mortal. Ya no recordaba dónde la había escondido, a menos que solo la hubiera soñado o se tratara de otra celda, otra prisión, en una serie infinita de prisiones y de largas conversaciones nocturnas con mis carceleros.
 

(Del libro: Hotel Insomnio (1992),

Zindo & Gafuri, 2017)

Charles Simic (poeta serbio estadounidense (1938)-

(Traducción: María Negroni & Federico Barea)

 

 
THE INANIMATE OBJET

In my long late night talks with the jailers, I raised again the question of the object: Does It remain Indifferentt whether it is perceived or not? (I had in mind than one concealed and found posthumously while the newly vacated cell was fumigated and swept.)
“Like a carved-wood demon of some nightmarish species,” said one. "In chipper writ," said another. We were drinking a homemade brew that made our heads spin. “When a neck button falls on the floor and hardly makes a sound,” said the third with a smile, but I said nothing.
“If only one could leave behind a little something to make others stop and think,” I thought to myself.
In the meantime, there was my piece of broken bottle to worry about. It was green and had a deadly cutting edge. I no longer remembered its hiding place, unless I had only dreamed of it, or this was another cell, another prison in an infinite series of prisons and long night talks with my jailers.