Sorrow

      The man has a great sorrow, domesticated like an animal, robust. It is clumsy, its hair covers its eyes, and it can scarcely look into the distance. On winter nights it sits with the man next to the fire. He protects it, encourages it, does not let it die because for him the sorrow becomes mixed up with his very life.

      In the morning he opens the door to the world for it and it runs through implacable streets, face to the wind, extreme and dark in a desire that does not know its object.

La pena

      El hombre tiene una pena grande, domesticada como un animal, maciza. Es torpe, el pelo le tapa los ojos, y apenas puede mirar hacia adelante. En las noches de invierno se sienta con el hombre junto al fuego. El la protege, la alienta, no la deja morir porque la pena se le confunde con su vida misma.

      Por las mañanas le abre la puerta hacia el mundo y ella corre por calles implacables, de cara al viento, extremada y oscura en un deseo que no sabe su objeto.