The poet's friend
has a wife whom the poet covets
she's all eyes
and lives in an apartment with a view of the city
that blinds the poet
and he manoeuvers a car that roars swiftly up the pavement
making the poet bite the curves of envy

And to merit all of this
the poet's friend works in an oil company
where the poet would never poke in the drill of his nose
because not for the bard the sweat of his brow
nor the profit of black bread.

The poet is mad about having all hours of the day to himself
to ruminate the grass of his bad inclinations
and tortuous torments
to sin capital charms in his heart
and add to his diary the telephone numbers of the moon

Considering leisure as the most naked of women
the poet is satisfied removing the petals of the dictionary
and waits for the friend to pay for beers in the seedy café

The friend with a wife sheathed in fur shop mirrors
The friend who lives with the lit-up city at his feet
The friend who hides his lion in the parking bay

Time was never lost smoking cigars
Talking with anarchists about the politics of Aristotle
Going to the whorehouse at night

The poet is the same singing or not singing
The poets are the true friends

Translation: 2006, Nicolás Suescún