No hay duda de ello, los gatos son grandes mascotas. Después de todo, ¿qué hay mejor que volver a casa al final de un duro día y escuchar el ronroneo de satisfacción de una adorable bola de pelo?
Los estudios demuestran que las personas con animales de compañía suelen estar más sanas y felices que aquellas que no los tienen, pero recuerda que tener un gato es una gran responsabilidad y un compromiso de por vida.
Cuando estés listo para asumir este compromiso, comprobarás que tener un gato ofrece ventajas como las siguientes:
Tener un gato es muy beneficioso, pero es importante elegirlo detenidamente para estar seguro de que te adaptarás bien a tu esponjoso amigo.
Tu gato ideal dependerá de tu estilo de vida y de tus preferencias personales. Por ejemplo, es posible que quieras un gato adulto al que poder acariciar en tu regazo o que tengas en mente un gatito de una raza especial.
Nuestros expertos en cuidado de mascotas recomiendan considerar lo siguiente antes de asumir el compromiso de tener un gato.
¿QUÉ RAZA DEBO ELEGIR?
CRUCES
RAZAS FELINAS MIXTAS
Hay alrededor de 60 razas y colores diferentes de gatos con pedigrí reconocidas, es decir, tienes mucho donde elegir al comprar un gato. Los gatos con pedigrí se dividen en siete tipos:
La gran ventaja de comprar un gatito o gato adulto con pedigrí es que sabrás mejor qué esperar de tu mascota. Por ejemplo, un siamés puro es probable que sea maullador, travieso y exija tu atención.
Comprar un gato con pedigrí también te dará una idea del tamaño que alcanzará, de la longitud de su pelaje y de algunos de los problemas de salud frecuentes en esa raza.
Es importante recordar que, desafortunadamente, a veces puede existir consanguinidad, lo que significa que los gatos con pedigrí son más vulnerables a las enfermedades o problemas de comportamiento heredados genéticamente. Debes tener en cuenta estas cuestiones y otras características de la raza cuando decidas tener un gato.
Para más información sobre las razas con pedigrí y sobre cómo elegir un gato, echa un vistazo a nuestro seleccionador de raza.
Los cruces tienen dos padres con pedigrí, pero de diferente raza. De hecho, muchas nuevas razas con pedigrí se han creado mediante minuciosos cruces (por ejemplo, el gato tonquinés se ha creado mediante el cruce de siamés con birmano).
Aunque se realizan algunos cruces con el propósito de crear una nueva raza, la mayoría de los casos actuales son resultado de un apareamiento accidental entre una hembra con pedigrí y un macho de raza diferente a la prevista.
En los gatitos nacidos de un cruce, a veces se pueden observar algunas de las características físicas y conductuales de ambas razas.
También conocidos como “gatos comunes”, estos gatos no tienen antepasados con pedigrí. Normalmente, se clasifican como “domésticos de pelo corto” o “domésticos de pelo largo”.
Si estás pensando en tener un gato de raza mixta, recuerda que no podrás saber exactamente qué tipo de gato será, ya que no tendrás información sobre las razas que componen su ADN. Por ejemplo, puede tener una personalidad más traviesa o un pelaje de diferentes características. Afortunadamente, a diferencia de los perros, los gatos no se diferencian mucho en tamaño o forma, por lo que no cabe esperar grandes sorpresas.
Por lo general, a menudo los gatos comunes tienen mejor salud que los gatos con pedigrí, ya que disponen de un mayor acervo genético y presentan menos problemas genéticos inherentes. También pueden tener una personalidad felina más completa y equilibrada.
En definitiva, los gatos y gatitos comunes suelen ser más baratos y más fáciles de encontrar.
Gatitos
A la hora de tener un gato resultará difícil resistirse al encanto de un gatito. Son esponjosos, juguetones y ofrecen la oportunidad de educarlos a tu gusto desde el principio. Al mismo tiempo, exigen mucha atención y tendrás que estar alerta, ¡sobre todo cuando sientan sed de aventuras! ¿Estás preparado para invertir el tiempo y la energía necesarios para atender las necesidades de un gatito? Si estás pensando en tener un gatito, tendrás que tener todo esto en cuenta.
Cuando elijas un gatito de una camada, busca un gatito que responda de un modo positivo (¡pero no agresivo!) a tus caricias o tu voz, así como a sus hermanos y hermanas. Un gatito que rehúye al grupo y que no muestra interés por acercarse a ti es probable que crezca siendo tímido y que no le guste que le toquen.
Tener un gato que te muerda y arañe las manos repetidamente es arriesgarse a que prefiera juegos demasiados bruscos cuando crezca.
Al elegir un gatito, asegúrate de que tenga un aspecto saludable. Sus ojos deben ser brillantes y limpios; sus orejas, limpias de cera; sus uñas, lisas; y su pelaje, brillante y espeso (según la raza). Además, no debe haber signos de pulgas. Si lo compras a un criador, es posible que el gatito ya haya sido examinado por un veterinario para comprobar su buen estado de salud. Si no fuese así, pregunta si puedes hacerle una revisión antes de tomar la decisión final de llevarlo a casa.
Si ya tienes al menos un gato, elegir un gatito puede causar menos conflictos sociales que la elección de otro gato adulto. Si aún no tienes gato, pero esperas tener varios en el futuro, tener uno o dos gatitos significaría que crecerían juntos y, por lo tanto, ¡se llevarían bien! Encontrarás más información en nuestra guía sobre cómo presentar a tu gato a otras mascotas.
Gatos adultos y mayores
Los gatos adultos pueden ser también juguetones y muy cariñosos, pero hay que tener en cuenta que pueden padecer problemas emocionales, sobre todo si han tenido un difícil comienzo. Cuando lleguen a ti, su personalidad estará ya formada por completo. Intenta conseguir información previa a través del dueño del gato o del refugio para saber qué esperar y cómo ayudarle a adaptarse (hábitos con respecto a la caja de arena, preferencias alimenticias y personalidad).
Los problemas como la micción inadecuada o la agresión, especialmente a otros gatos, son menos probables en gatos adultos ya formados. Los gatos mayores también son buenos compañeros de mimos, ya que tienen menos energía que un gatito y estarán encantados de dormirse en tu regazo.
Si estás pensando en darle un nuevo hogar a un gato de un refugio, encontrarás más información en nuestra guía sobre adoptar un gato.
Ambos, machos y hembras, son mascotas estupendas y con muy pocas diferencias de comportamiento entre sí, siempre que hayan sido esterilizados. Algunos dicen que las hembras son más cariñosas y los machos más independientes, pero puedes encontrarte con un niño de mamá o con una hembra autosuficiente. Al elegir un gato y escoger su género, hay que tener en cuenta estos consejos:
Si necesitas más información sobre esterilización, visita nuestra página de Preguntas Frecuentes.Sea cual sea la decisión que tomes para elegir al gato ideal para tu familia, te queda un emocionante camino por recorrer, repleto de inolvidables vivencias con tu nuevo amigo de cuatro patas. Lee nuestra guía para hacer de tu casa un lugar acogedor para tu gato donde se sienta lo más cómodo posible.
Explora nuestras marcas para gatos:
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Newsletter
Recibe nuestras newsletters sobre cuidados de mascotas
En Purina, creemos que cuando las personas y las mascotas se juntan, la vida es mucho mejor.
Por eso, queremos acompañaros y estar a vuestro lado en cada etapa de su vida.
Consejos adaptados a las necesidades de tu mascota, recomendaciones sobre su salud y bienestar ¡y novedades cada mes!
Veterinarios, nutricionistas y expertos en perros y gatos para resolver todas tus dudas.
Promociones, concursos, descuentos y ofertas de todas nuestras marcas.
¡No te lo pierdas, únete a Purina y empieza a disfrutar ya de las ventajas!
Registrarme ahora
Desde el Gobierno de la Ciudad promovemos el respeto y el cuidado de las mascotas, brindando un servicio de castraciones y atención clínica veterinaria totalmente gratuito.
La castración es una cirugía que impide la reproducción en perros y gatos, tanto en machos como en hembras, además de prevenir enfermedades y promover una mejor calidad de vida.
Consultá las agendas para conocer qué días y en qué puntos se darán turnos para castración, atención veterinaria o vacunación antirrábica, regístrate con tu cuenta de MiBA, seleccioná el día, completá el formulario y una vez confirmada la operación seguí las indicaciones que llegarán a tu cuenta de mail. Allí nuestros veterinarios le realizarán un examen clínico preoperatorio y, si se encuentra apta para la cirugía realizarán la castración.
Recordá notificarle al veterinario si tu mascota toma alguna medicación o si tiene alguna enfermedad. También podés llevar los estudios previos que tengas. Recordá venir con tapaboca y mantener siempre la distancia social. Para cuidarnos entre todos, no se atenderá a quienes se acerquen a los centros de atención sin turno previo.
Además de los ocho móviles que recorren las comunas de lunes a lunes, contás con dos centros fijos de atención veterinaria y castración que funcionan uno en Villa Soldati en el Parque Indoamericano (Av.
Escalada y Paseo Islas Malvinas) y el otro en Costanera Sur (Av. Dr. T. Achaval Rodriguez 1550), a 100 metros frente a la fuente de Lola Mora.
Si queres castrar a tu mascota en los móviles o centros fijos, ahora podés solicitar un turno de manera online. Los viernes de cada semana a las 10 h se habilitan las agendas del fin de semana y de la semana siguiente. Seguí estos pasos para hacerlo:
1. Registrate con tu cuenta de miBA.
2. Selecciona la opción correspondiente para pedir un turno.
Castración de perras
Castración de perros
Castración de gatos
Castración de gatas
3. Ingresa en la opción “por fecha”. Seleccioná el día y seguí las recomendaciones para presentarte con tu mascota el día del turno.
4. Una vez confirmada la operación, te llegará un mail con toda la información que necesitas.
Si queres realizarle una atención veterinaria, ahora podés solicitar un turno de manera online.
Los viernes de cada semana a las 10 h se habilitan las agendas del fin de semana y de la semana siguiente. Seguí estos pasos para hacerlo:
1. Registrate con tu cuenta de miBA.
2. Selecciona la opción correspondiente para pedir un turno.
Atención veterinaria
3. Seleccioná el día y seguí las recomendaciones para presentarte con tu mascota el día del turno.
4. Una vez confirmada la operación, te llegará un mail con toda la información que necesitas.
Si queres vacunar a tu mascota contra la rabia, podes acercarte sin turno previo en las fechas que figuran en el cronograma, de 9 a 13 h.
Aviso importante. Para cuidarnos entre todos, no se atenderá a quienes se acerquen a los centros de atención sin turno previo. Recordá venir con tapaboca y mantener siempre la distancia social.
| Centros fijos de atención veterinaria | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Martes 01, miércoles 02 y jueves 03 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Costanera Sur (Costanera Sur) | Castración | |
| Jueves 03 y viernes 04 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Villa Soldati – Parque Indoamericano (Villa Soldati) | Castración | |
| Martes 08, miércoles 09 y jueves 10 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Costanera Sur (Costanera Sur) | Castración | |
| Martes 08, jueves 10 y viernes 11 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Villa Soldati – Parque Indoamericano (Villa Soldati) | Castración | |
| Martes 15, miércoles 16 y jueves 17 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Costanera Sur (Costanera Sur) | Castración | |
| Jueves 17 y viernes 18 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Villa Soldati – Parque Indoamericano (Villa Soldati) | Castración | |
| Sábado 19, martes 22, miércoles 23 y jueves 24 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Costanera Sur (Costanera Sur) | Castración | |
| Miércoles 23, jueves 24 y viernes 25 de noviembre | Centro fijo de Villa Soldati – Parque Indoamericano (Villa Soldati) | Castración | |
| Sábado 26, martes 29, miércoles 30 de noviembre y jueves 01 de diciembre | Centro fijo de Costanera Sur (Costanera Sur) | Castración | |
| Miércoles 29 de noviembre, jueves 01 y viernes 02 de diciembre | Centro fijo de Villa Soldati – Parque Indoamericano (Villa Soldati) | Castración | |
| Sábado 03, martes 06 y miércoles 07 de diciembre | Centro fijo de Costanera Sur (Costanera Sur) | Castración | |
| Lunes 05 y martes 06 de diciembre | Centro fijo de Villa Soldati – Parque Indoamericano (Villa Soldati) | Castración | |
| Unidades móviles de atención veterinaria | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Martes 01 de noviembre | Barrio Rodrigo Bueno (Puerto Madero) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Martes 01 de noviembre | Plaza Manzana 66 (Balvanera) | Castración | |
| Miércoles 02 de noviembre | Plaza Florentino Ameghino (Parque Patricios) | Castración | |
| Viernes 04 de noviembre | La Casona de Olivera (Parque Avellaneda) | Castración | |
| Viernes 04 de noviembre | Plaza Mariano Boedo | Castración | |
| Sábado 05 de noviembre | Plaza Roque Saenz Peña (Av. Boyacá y Remedios de Escalada de San Martin, Villa Gral. Mitre) |
Atención veterinaria y vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Sábado 05 de noviembre | Plaza Salaberry (Av. Juan B. Alberdi y Pilar, Mataderos) | Atención veterinaria y vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 06 de noviembre | Plaza Don Bosco (Av. Lope de Vega y Elpidio González, Monte Castro) | Atención veterinaria y vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Lunes 07 de noviembre | Parque de Los Patricios (Av. Caseros y Monteagudo, Parque Patricios) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Miércoles 09 de noviembre | Plaza Irlanda (Caballito) | Castración | |
| Jueves 10 de noviembre | Plaza Roque Saenz Peña (Villa Gral. Mitre) | Castración | |
| Sábado 12 de noviembre | Barrio Lugano 1 y 2 (Ana Diaz y Soldado de la Frontera, Villa Lugano) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Sábado 12 de noviembre | Parque Chacabuco (Emilio Mitre y Estrada, Parque Chacabuco) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 13 de noviembre | Plaza Leandro Alem (Larsen y Zamudio, Villa Pueyrredón) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 13 de noviembre | Plaza Félix Lima (Cuba y Arias, Núñez) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Lunes 14 de noviembre | Sociedad de Fomento (Montiel 5382, Villa Riachuelo) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Martes 15 de noviembre | Plaza Inmigrante de Armenia (Palermo) | Castración | |
| Jueves 17 de noviembre | Plaza Balcarce (Núñez) | Castración | |
| Sábado 19 de noviembre | Parque Leonardo Pereyra (Av. Vélez Sarsfield y Av. Iriarte, Barracas) |
Atención veterinaria y vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Sábado 19 de noviembre | Plaza Ejercito de los Andes (Av. Rivadavia 10350, Villa Luro) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 20 de noviembre | Plaza Alberdi (Nuñez y Machain, Saavedra) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 20 de noviembre | Barrio Castex (San Pedrito 1450, Flores) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Martes 22 de noviembre | Parque Centenario (Caballito) | Castración | |
| Martes 22 de noviembre | Parque de los Patricios (Parque Patricios) | Castración | |
| Miércoles 23 de noviembre | Estación Buenos Aires (Barracas) | Castración | |
| Sábado 26 de noviembre | Plazoleta Madre de la Misericordia (Av. Eva Perón y Fonrouge, Villa Lugano) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Sábado 26 de noviembre | Plaza Rosario Vera Peñaloza (Av. San Juan y Chacabuco, San Telmo) |
Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Sábado 26 de noviembre | Plaza Unidad Latinoamericana (Costa Rica y Medrano, Palermo) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 27 de noviembre | Plaza Colombia (Av. Montes de Oca y Brandsen, Barracas) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 27 de noviembre | Plaza Nobel (Turín y Bucarest, Parque Chas) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 27 de noviembre | Plaza Martín Fierro (La Rioja y Cochabamba, San Cristóbal) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Lunes 28 de noviembre | Barrio Piedrabuena (2 de Abril y Av. Gral Paz, Villa Lugano) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Jueves 01 de diciembre | Plaza Mariano Boedo (Boedo) | Castración | |
| Viernes 02 de diciembre | La Casona de Olivera (Parque Avellaneda) | Castración | |
| Sábado 03 de diciembre | Barrio Piedrabuena (Luisito Cuter 4000, Villa Lugano) | Atención veterinaria y vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Sábado 03 de diciembre | Club Santa Lucía (Av. Montes de Oca 1517, Barracas) |
Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 04 de diciembre | Plaza Primero de Mayo (Pasco e Hipólito Yrigoyen, Balvanera) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 04 de diciembre | Plaza Tte. Gral. Pablo Ricchieri (Av. Francisco Beiró y Desaguadero, Villa Devoto) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Domingo 04 de diciembre | Plaza Velez Sarsfield (Av. Avellaneda y Bahía Blanca, Floresta) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
| Lunes 05 de diciembre | Plaza de Pompeya (Av. Sáenz y Traful, Nueva Pompeya) | Vacunación Antirrábica | |
… Learing, true Buenos Aires
(H.L. Borhees)
Louis Borges- One of the key figures Not only
Argentine, but also the entire world literature of the 20th century.
His work is original
this is the work of an Argentine, it conveys the very spirit of the Argentine nation, but – together
with this and thanks to this – it is comprehensive and open to everything. Like the Argentine
tango is a dance that was born in Argentina, but understood and loved all over the world.
It is this feature (and not specific works of the writer, in which, one way or
otherwise, tango is mentioned, comprehended) – the first and most profound thing that unites
Borges and tango.
The second is the image of Buenos Aires. As Federico Garcia Lorca rightly pointed out,
who visited the capital of Argentina in the early 1930s,
“There is something extraordinarily alive in Buenos Aires
and only to him peculiar: something full of dramatic
beats, something that is undeniable and natural among all his
numerous peoples; something that calls to us: Tango. In the heartbeat
tango sounds throughout Buenos Aires.” And in the heartbeat of creativity
Borges sounds Buenos Aires.
It is noteworthy that his first published book
was called “Passion for Buenos Aires”, poems from which, among other things,
are offered to your attention.
Jorge Luis Borges
From the book “Passion for Buenos Aires” (Fervor de Buenos Aires),
1923.
Dawn
Deep all-encompassing night,
which the lanterns barely contradict,
lost breath
alarmed the silent streets,
like a thrilling premonition
frightening dawn that surrounds
abandoned suburbs of the world.
Looking into the darkness with curiosity,
I, frightened by the threat of dawn,
remembered the terrifying assumption
Schopenhauer and Berkeley,
according to which the world is
the result of the activity of the mind,
vision of souls,
without foundation, purpose and scope.
And because ideas
not eternal like marble,
but immortal like a forest or a river,
former teaching
at dawn took on a new form,
and the superstition of this hour,
when the light is like a bindweed,
going to entangle the walls with shadows,
subjugated my mind,
and drew this fantasy:
all things are alien to each other essences,
and numerous Buenos Aires –
nothing more than a vision,
which souls build up by magic together,
and there is a moment,
when his existence is in immeasurable danger,
this trembling moment of dawn,
when there are few who dream of the world,
and only a few night owls keep
ashy and barely outlined
street image,
what later they will think out with the rest.
Oh, the time when the stubborn vision of life
running in danger of disappearing,
a time when it’s so easy for God
ruin all your creation!
But again the world was saved.
The Light Flows Inventing Untidy Colors
and with certain remorse
due to my complicity in the revival of the day
I ask for my house,
amazed and chilling in the white light,
while a bird interrupts my silence,
when emaciated night
remained only in the eyes of the blind.
San Martin Square
Macedonio Fernandez
In search of the evening
I wandered the streets in vain.
The porches of the houses were already holding back the twilight.
With the elegance of mahogany
the evening is entirely located on the square,
clear and spicy,
merciful and subtle as a lamp,
clear as a forehead,
serious, like the gesture of a person in mourning.
All feelings calm down
under the grace of trees –
jacaranda and acacia, branches
pious whom
soften the severity of an impossible statue,
in whose networks
flares up
greatness of fires equidistant
from the light blue of the skies and the redness of the earth.
How good to see the evening
from the simple rest of the benches!
Below is
the port yearns passionately for remote latitudes,
and the deep square that equalizes souls,
reveals itself as death, as a dream.
St. Juan’s Night
West wind, flawless in its
magnificence,
cut the distance with the edge of the sword.
Tender now, like a willow, the night.
Red sparkles
swirls of fast fires;
sacrificial wood,
bleeding in high flashes of flame, –
living flags and blind mischief.
Peaceful darkness, as they gave;
and the streets remember today,
about what used to be a field.
All night holy loneliness, praying, fingering
their own from the stars scattered across the sky, a rosary.
Reclaimed quarter
Nobody saw the beauty of the streets,
while with a terrible cry
the greenish sky did not collapse
into the despondency of water and darkness.
The storm was unanimous,
and the world was terrifying to look at.
But only the rainbow blessed
colors of forgiveness evening,
and aroma of damp earth
inspired gardens,
we rushed to walk along the streets,
as if on a property regained,
and the bounty of the sun spilled in the glass of the windows,
and in shining leaves
summer spoke with its trembling immortality.
Twilight
Clear accumulation of west wind
stirred up the street,
open street like a spacious dream
any accident.
Light Grove
loses the last bird, the last gold.
Hard Hand of a Beggar
exacerbates the sadness of the evening.
Silence living in mirrors,
broke into his prison.
Darkness is blood
wounded things.
In an obscure sunset
cripple-evening
was only poor colors.
Walk
Scented, hot like mate,
the night wild, the deaf draws closer
and cleans the streets,
that my loneliness is accompanied
and what are created from the fear of vague and extended lines.
The wind brings with it the sighs of the field,
estates tenderness, poplars of remembrance,
oscillating under the stillness of the asphalt
living but chained land,
languishing with the weight of houses.
And, hidden at night, in vain the cat
closed balconies worries,
that in the evening they were
girlish clear hopes.
Silence reigns on every porch.
And into concave shadows
pour in time generous, big
magnificent midnight clock,
so deep,
in which each dream finds its container,
souls open time, which is so different
to the greedy bounds that define
the efforts of the day limits.
I am the only spectator of this street;
And if I turn my eyes away, she will die.
(I anticipate a prickly and thick wall
aggression restrictions
and yet dare to shine yellow
the light of an indecisive lantern.
And I foresee the unsteady stars too.
)
Majestic, lively,
like the gloomy plumage of an angel,
whose wings cover the day,
the night loses its simple streets.
Suburb
Dedicated to Guillermo de Torre
The suburb is a reflection of our boredom.
My steps were uneven,
when I intended to cross the horizon,
among the houses I found myself,
in the squares of the collected quarters,
both the same and different,
as if they were all
recollection of the repetitive monotonous
of some single quarter.
And unsteady tread,
desperately hoping
crumbled on street stones,
and in the depths I saw
color maps of the west wind
and felt Buenos Aires.
That city was what I considered my past,
who is both my future and my present;
the years that I spent in Europe are illusory,
I have always been in Buenos Aires (and will be).
Streets
Buenos Aires Streets
became my essence.
Not thirsty streets,
constrained by the crowd and bustle,
but the broken streets of the suburbs,
almost unnoticed out of habit,
those suburban streets,
deprived of piety trees,
harsh houses dare hardly where,
under the weight of immortal distances,
get lost in deep vision
plains and skies.
For the lonely they are like a promise,
because thousands of individual souls inhabit them,
the only ones before time and God,
and definitely precious.
To the West, North and South
they were deployed and became my homeland;
In the verses that I sketched here, at least
let their flags fly.
El Sur
To admire in one of your courtyards
on ancient stars,
and, sitting on a bench of darkness,
admire
by the scattered brilliance of these stars,
to whom my ignorance cannot give names,
nor mentally connect into constellations,
And feel the water circulation
In the secret well,
And honeysuckle and jasmine fragrances,
And the silence of a sleeping bird,
Entrance arch, dampness,
Maybe it’s all a poem.
Saturdays
In the sunset street a dark jewel,
hidden by time,
and a blind, deep city
people who cannot see you.
The evening is either silent or singing.
Someone, as if from a cross, removes passions,
nailed to the piano.
Forever, abundance of your beauty.
***
Despite your indifference,
your beauty
wastes its miracle in time.
And this is happiness in you,
like spring – in new leaves.
And I’m almost nothing,
only passion – and only,
lost in this evening.
And it is in you – delight,
just like in swords – cruelty.
***
Night lies, weighing down the window bars.
In the harsh living room,
, our two lonelinesses wander like blind men.
The triumphant whiteness
of your body is going through the evening.
There is suffering in our love,
similar to the soul.
***
You,
that before everything was beauty,
you are also everything – love, from now on.
Evening dawn
Sunset is always exciting, disturbing,
whether illumined or subdued,
but more exciting, anxious
the last one, a desperate reflection,
what makes a plain rusty
at the moment when the sun sinks into it.
How difficult it is to withstand the radiance,
delusional hallucination
space for fear of the dark,
and stopping suddenly,
when we notice all the falsity of it,
as visions crumble,
when we realize that we are dreaming.
Evening fields
Walk the west wind like an archangel,
dominated the road.
Loneliness inhabited like a dream
wrapped its sleeves around the village.
Bells collect
the scattered sadness of the evening. Month –
a thin voice coming from the sky.
At nightfall
The village wants to become a field.
The west wind does not heal,
Still tormenting the evening.
Trembling colors take shelter
At the core of things.
In an empty bedroom
mirrors will close the night.
Surroundings
Patios and their ancient authenticity,
patio, prisoners
between earth and sky.
Windows with bars,
of which street
looks familiar, like a lamp.
Deep bedrooms,
where the mahogany blazes with a calm flame,
and a mirror with weak reflections –
like a backwater in the dark.
Dark Crossroads,
emitting four endless spans
on the outskirts of silence.
I gave names to all places,
where tenderness crumbled,
and I am alone, alone with myself.
Recoleta Cemetery
Convinced of frailty only
so many noble statements of dust,
we were talking slower and quieter
among the long rows of tombs,
whose eloquence of darkness and marble
promises and anticipates the desired
dignity of death.
Beautiful tombs,
nude Latin and fixed fatal dates,
unity of marble and flowers,
and areas with patio freshness,
and many yesterdays of history,
today imprisoned and alone.
We confused this peace with death
and thought we wanted our end,
and wished for sleep and indifference.
Trembling in blades and in passion,
here sleeping in ivy,
only life exists.
Space and time its norms,
magic tools of the soul,
and when she dies,
space and time and death die with it,
same as when the light goes out
images disappear in mirrors,
which the evening has already thinned.
Blessed Shadow of the Trees,
wind with birds whirling over the branches,
the soul that scatters among other souls –
it’s a miracle that someday will stop,
inexplicable miracle,
although its imaginary repetition is
fills our days with fear.
Here’s what I was thinking at Recoleta Cemetery,
where my ashes are.
Trophy
Like one who, wandering along the coast,
endowed with light and generous space,
admiring the abundance of the sea,
I admired your beauty
during a long day.
In the evening we said goodbye,
and in growing loneliness,
when I was returning along the street whose faces still remember you,
my happiness faded, realizing,
what of so many wonderful memories
only one or two will remain,
to become an ornament of the soul
in the immortality of her path.
Unknown street
Pigeon twilight
The Jews called the beginning of the evening,
When the shadow does not hinder steps
and the coming of the night is realized
as desired, early music,
like a calm fading.
At this time, when the light
takes on a sandy glow,
I went out to an unknown street,
outdoor noble latitude terraces
whose cornices and walls were
as delicate colors as the sky,
whose depths were troubled.
Everything is the mediocrity of houses,
modest balustrades and doorbells,
and perhaps girlish hopes on the balconies, entered
into my empty heart
with purity of tears.
Maybe this silver evening
could convey his tenderness to the street,
making it real like a verse,
forgotten and rediscovered.
Only then did I understand
that this street is not familiar to me,
that every house is a candlestick,
upon which human lives are ablaze,
like solitary candles,
and that our every step
leads us to our Calvary.
Absence
I need to build a huge life,
what is your mirror now:
And every morning I need to build it again.
Since you left,
so many places have suddenly become unnecessary,
meaningless, like the light of lanterns during the day.
And the evenings that your image, like niches, covered,
melodies that you always waited for me with,
and the time of that word
I will have to break with my own hands.
In what depths will I hide my soul,
your absence so as not to see,
like a terrible sun that, not knowing the sunset,
mercilessly burns, irrevocably?
And, like a rope around my neck,
your absence surrounds me, and the sea,
in which eternal separation drowns.
Park
Channels,
jagged mountains,
dunes surrounded by windy roads
and miles of storms and sand,
that gather in the depths of the desert.
A deserted park.
Each tree is a selva of foliage.
And in vain they are disturbed
Silent Barren Hills,
who hurry the night with its darkness
and a sad sea of unnecessary greenery.
The whole park is a meek and quiet light,
illuminating evening.
A small garden is like a holiday,
Among the poverty of the earth.
Chubuta deposits, 1922.
The inscription on any tomb
I chatted brave marble
does not violate the omnipotence of oblivion,
carefully transferring
name, title, event, homeland.
All these acquired jewels remain in darkness,
and marble will not say what people have kept silent about.
Essence of life ended –
trembling hope,
the inexorable miracle of suffering and reverence for joy –
will always remain.
The soul blindly demands the continuation of life,
while it is provided in the lives of others,
while you yourself are only a mirror and reflection
of those who did not live up to your time,
and others will be (and are) your immortality on earth.
From the book “The Moon Opposite” (1925)
Farewell
The evening that interrupted our farewell.
The evening is sharp and delightful, and terrifying, like a dark angel.
An evening when our lips lived in the naked proximity of kisses.
Inevitable time spilled over the vain embrace.
We were wasting passion together, not for us, but for the sake of loneliness, already
close.
Light refused us; the night came hastily.
We were at this fence, in this weight of darkness, which was reduced by a star.
Like one who returns from a distant meadow, I have returned from your embrace.
As one who returns from the land of blades, I have returned from your tears.
Living evening, lasting like a dream,
among other evenings.
And then I left, overtaking and leaving behind
day trips and nights.
Almost the Last Judgment
My street idleness lives and is freed by the diversity of the night.
Night is a holiday, long and lonely.
In the secret depths of my heart I justify and praise myself: I testified
world; I recognized the singularity of the world.
I sang the eternal: the bright returning moon and the cheeks that I yearn for
love.
I glorified with verses the city that surrounds me, and the suburbs that torment
me.
I expressed surprise where the rest speak only familiar words.
I was inspired by my blood ancestors and the ancestors of my dreams and
exalted them.
I was and I am.
I sealed my feeling with firm words that could be dispelled by tenderness.
The memory of an old disgrace returns to my heart. as if dead
a horse that is washed ashore by the tide, it returns to my heart.
But they are still on my side, no matter what, the streets and the moon.
The water remains sweet on my lips, and the stanzas do not deny me their
grace.
I feel fear of beauty; who dares to judge me if this huge moon
my loneliness forgives me?
The last sun in the suburbs of Villa Ortuzar
Evening like the Last Judgment.
The street is like an open wound in the sky.
I don’t know if the angel or the sunset was the light that lit up in the distance.
Persistently, like a nightmare, distances weigh on me. fencing
hurts the horizon.
The world is like something unnecessary and abandoned.
Day is in the sky, but the night is hidden in the ditches.
The whole world is on these blue walls and in the excitement of the girls.
I no longer know if this is a tree or a god peeking out from behind a rusty
fences?
How many countries at the same time: field, heaven, surroundings. Today I was rich
streets and a sharp sunset and an evening like a stupor.
Away from him, I will return to my poverty.
Promise on the high seas
I did not return your closeness, my homeland, but I already have your stars.
The heavenly distance has told about them, and now masts are lost in her grace.
They fell off the high ledges like the surprise of pigeons.
They emerge from the patio, where the well is an overturned tower between two
heaven.
They emerge from a growing garden whose tumult is rising to the ground
walls like dark water.
They emerge from the faded twilight of the province, gentle as thickets
shrub.
They are immortal and passionate; their eternity cannot be measured by any city.
In the persistence of their light, all human nights will bend like dry leaves.
They are a clear country and somehow my land is surrounded by them.
The course of the ship
The sea is a countless sword and the fullness of poverty.
The flash of flame above him is translated into anger, its source is in time, and its
pool in pure acceptance.
The sea is lonely as a blind man.
The sea is an ancient language that I can no longer decipher.
In its depths the dawn is a modest whitewashed hedge.
At its limit, something bright appears, like a cloud of smoke.
As impenetrable as a cut stone, the sea persists through the days.
Every evening is the door.
Our gaze, tormented by the sea, moves across its sky: the last white beach,
azure clay of the evenings.
What sweet intimacy at sunset in an unsociable sea! Light as
holiday, clouds sparkle.
The young moon is entangled in the mast.
The same moon that we left under the stone arch and whose light will adorn
and you.
Quietly on deck, I share the evening with my sister like a piece of bread.
Dakar
Dakar is located at the intersection of sun, desert and sea.
The sun closes the sky for us, sand lies in wait on the roads, and the sea
it is hate.
I saw some chief in whose attire there was a more burning blue than in
burning sky.
The mosque next to the cinema shines with the clarity of prayer. The sun’s rays are receding
huts, the sun, like a thief, climbs the walls.
Africa keeps its destiny in eternity, in which there are feats, idols, kingdoms,
huge forests and swords.
I have reached the sunset and the village.
One western street
You will give me someone else’s immortality, lonely street.
You are already the shadow of my life.
You cross my nights with the sure straightness of an overpass.
Death – a dark and motionless storm – will move my clock away.
Someone will gather my steps and appropriate my reverence and this star.
(Distance, like a long wind, must torment his path).
Washed by noble loneliness, he will place the same passion in your sky.
Place the same passion that I am.
I will reappear in his future amazement – to be.
And again – in you:
A street that opens painfully like a wound.
Pink shop street
Eyes are already scattered in the evening along every street
and, as a premonition of drought, rain.
Already all the roads are so close
and even the road of a miracle.
The wind carries the delayed dawn.
Dawn is our fear of doing different things, it falls on us from above.
All holy night I wandered,
and her excitement leaves me
on this street, which could have been any other.
The safety of the plain is here again
on the horizon,
and wasteland scattered in bushes and wires,
and a shop as distinct as the waxing moon last night.
Native, like a memory, street corner
with those elongated plinths and the promise of a patio.
What a pleasant testimony, eternal street, because there is so little in you
see my days!
The light is already scratching the air.
My years have passed along the roads of land and water,
and only next to you I feel you, the street, harsh and pink.
I think that suddenly your walls came up with dawn,
a store that is so clearly visible at the end of the night.
I think, and my voice becomes among the houses
confession of my poverty:
I did not look at the rivers, nor at the sea, nor at the mountains,
but the light of Buenos Aires made friends with me,
and I forge the verses of my life and my death in this street light.
Street, large and patient,
you are the only music my life knows about. Tel.0001
“I would say tango and milonga with all my being
express what poets of different times and peoples
trying to express in words: faith in battle as a holiday…”
(H.
L. Borges)
Reality turned into a dream –
their dance. That’s why it’s even more real
he is the dream of any and more material
in the sacred corporeality that has become a dream
already others looking at him,
listening to two bodies subtle movements,
impulses of feelings mysterious and sonorous –
two suddenly embraced: her, him,
silently speaking silence
hugs about music sounding
as if only for them.
And their conversation is visible by the wave
flows, both causeless and alluring,
like a perfect verse.
Tango is, of course, a unique phenomenon of the Argentinean
culture. On the one hand, it has become its quintessence,
the other, her way of being aware of herself. Maybe tango is destiny
Argentina. And there is nothing surprising in the fact that it has become the most important topic
Argentine literature and poetry.
The first poem dedicated to tango was written by Ricardo Guiraldes.
if you
know the history of tango, then you remember that, before you get to the beginning of XX
century to Europe, where it was ennobled, it was the dance of the city outskirts
Buenos Aires, which was danced by sailors, workers and bandits with women
easy behavior in brothels (such a sensual dance was just
impossible and unacceptable in the upper strata of society). However, the fame of tango grew, and
Argentines went to Europe to popularize tango, and it really
was to the taste of the Europeans, in turn, then returned it to Argentina in
refined form. One of these popularizers was the Argentine poet and
writer Ricardo Guiraldes, author of the famous novel Don Segundo
Sombra, at 1910, who organized tango performances in Parisian
salons. There, in Paris, Guiraldes wrote a poem in which
a vivid image of the dance that originated in the outskirts of Buenos Aires at the end of the 19th
century.
Tango is severe and sad.
Tango threat.
Tango, in which every note falls, is heavy, and, as if in desperation, lowers
a hand accustomed to gripping a knife handle.
The tango is tragic, the melody of which sounds like a struggle.
A slow rhythm, a complex harmony of warring obstacles.
A dance that inspires dizzy excitement in souls clouded with alcohol.
Creator of silently gliding silhouettes that weaken the hypnotic effect
bleeding sleep.
Hats tilted over mocking grimaces.
The imperious love of a tyrant, jealously guarding his dominant will.
Enthusiastic women, subdued, like obedient animals.
A complex mockery of violence.
Brothel breath. The air that smells of raw beauty and a man in sweat
struggle.
Premonition of a sudden explosion of screams and threats that will end in muffled
groan, spilled human blood, as if the last protest of a useless
anger.
Red blotch clotting in black.
Tango is fatal, arrogant and rude.
Notes are tormented, slowly, on detuned keys.
Tango is harsh and sad.
Tango threat.
Dance of love and death.
As a theme, the life of the outskirts of Buenos Aires was introduced into Argentine literature a little earlier.
poet Evaristo Carriego, standing at the origins of tango poetry. He himself did not write lyrics
for tango, but he was the first to poeticize the life of poor neighborhoods
Buenos Aires, where this dance originated. Carriego’s poems inspired and
authors of texts for tango (they both developed its themes, images, and
used direct quotations from his works), and composers: dedicated to the poet
Eduardo Rovira’s famous tango “A Evaristo Carriego”
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3N7MhkhlWBs).
Carriego poet of nostalgia, perhaps the main feeling, a red thread
connecting everything related to tango.
You are familiar to us, like the thing that ours
was that only belonged to us,
familiar with streets and trees
at the edge of the sidewalks,
restless joy of boys,
and faces of friends,
personal stories, in area
by word of mouth transmitted,
and the monotony of dreary songs
organ grinder: his
our neighbor likes to listen ta,
with sad eyes.
We love you
as before, all with the same quiet tenderness,
road to our house! See
with what tenderness we love you!
All that,
that memory awakens in us.
And it seems that the stones are
yours are guarded like a secret,
habitual rumble of steps,
becoming more and more muffled, of all those
whom we will not hear at that hour,
when we return again.
Road
home, you are like
beloved face,
that kissed so many times:
Oh how we know you!
We are on the same street every evening
admiring calmly
all the same sad or cheerful scene,
and by the same people. that girl
pensive and modest that so long
humbly waiting for a friend and will not wait!
Sometimes new faces are noticeable,
serious or with a kind smile,
what they look at us, passing by.
And disappearing into silence
over time other persons
those from the region and from life who
leaves without saying goodbye.
Passers-by,
that will never give us peace!
Just think that we once
let’s leave like this, but in our own way,
where – who knows? just like them
they left silently.
The book about this poet (Evaristo Carriego, 1930) was written by the great
Jorge Luis Borges, and as a result he got a book about tango. Not without
influenced by Carriego’s poetry, Borges wrote his first book of poems Passion for
Buenos Aires (1923), the central image of which, like Carriego’s poems,
image of the suburbs of Buenos Aires.
Suburb is a reflection of our boredom.
My steps were uneven,
when I intended to cross the horizon,
among the houses I found myself,
in the squares of the collected quarters,
both the same and different,
as if they were all
recollection of the repetitive monotonous
of some single quarter.
And unsteady tread,
desperately hoping
crumbled on street stones,
and in the depths I saw
color maps of the west wind
and felt Buenos Aires.
That city was what I considered my past,
who is both my future and my present;
the years that I spent in Europe are illusory,
I have always been (and will always be) in Buenos Aires.
Borges turned to tango throughout his life,
thought about him. In the story The Man from the Pink Café he describes
sensations of the dancers: A girlfriend in dancing got me a sensitive guessed each
my movement. Tango did whatever it wanted with us, and spurred, and intoxicated,
and led after itself, and again gave to each other. Everyone forgot in the dances, as in
some dream, but it suddenly seemed to me that the music sounded louder, this is for her
added the sounds of guitars from the van, which rolled closer. Here the wind brought
the strumming subsided, and I again obeyed my own body, and the body of my girlfriend,
and the dictates of the dance.
In the 1960s, Borges collaborated with Astor Piazzolla, who wrote music for his
poetry.
The danced tango
Yellow sunset rays
Illuminated, those who know
Another dance is with knives.
Tango of this Maldonado,
where there is less water than dirt,
tango after whistling
crew flying home.
Carefree and unrestrained,
you look straight ahead.
Tango, courage for men
and expressing will stubbornly.
Tango that was like me,
just like me, happy,
so my memory tells me,
but it becomes silent.
From this evening how much is
dreams will happen to two!
Separation and regret
love and not be loved.
I will die, and you will continue
beautify our lives.
Buenos Aires will not forget you, oh tango,
which was and will be.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5TrN2DGOEQ)
In 1965 Borges’ poetry collection For
six strings, in which the poet refers to the origins of the tango, to its predecessor
a milonga song sung by gauchos with guitar accompaniment.
In Balvanera, I remember once
I got into consciousness
one name; in the night they spoke
about Jacinto Chiclana.
They talked about a street fight,
about knives, but hid
street time, fight, sparkle
those knives – all that was.
Who would have known why this name is
as if they follow me everywhere!
Oh, to know, to know
who he was, what kind of life he lived.
I see him as stately, tall,
silent, ready
risk yourself without hesitation
and cold-blooded in battle.
No, no one is ever more fearless
did not walk on land without rights.
Neither in love nor in war is there
there will never be an equal.
Towers rise Balvaneras
over gardens, courtyards,
and this accidental death is here,
with their knives.
I don’t see details, but I see
in yellow lamplight
clash of people with shadows,
knife-snake with its insidious sting.
And possibly at the same time
how I felt a new wound,
he thought: a man shouldn’t
try to slow down death by deceit.
God alone knows,
Was Jacinto like this or different.
And now, gentlemen, I sing to you,
only about what brings us a name.
About one, about one in the world
there should never be regrets –
that he was brave, was not afraid
never any battles.
And courage is always worthy,
and with hope to live is more desirable.
That’s why I sing you a milonga
about Jacinto Chiclana.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SU9CIZNcz−8)
Tango, according to Borges, is an expression of self-consciousness
Argentines. In one of Oscar Wilde’s dialogues, it is said that music gives
us our own past, which we had not suspected until now,
making you regret losses that were not there, and misdeeds that did not
guilty. I can say about myself that I can’t listen to Marne or Don Juan,
in all details without remembering the apocryphal past with its equanimity
and passion, in which I myself challenge and fight with an unknown enemy,
to fall without a single word in an unknown knife fight.
Maybe in this
and the purpose of the tango is to inspire the Argentines to believe in their former courage, in
that one day they found the strength not to deviate from the demands of valor and
honor (from the book Evaristo Carriego, translated by B. Dubin).
Where are you now? – about those who are gone,
Sadness is trying, as if
There is an area of the world where one minute is
It contains all ends and all beginnings.
Where (I repeat) those apostles of courage,
Whose prowess along the dead ends of the outskirts
And suburbs was once soldered
A union of desperation and courage?
Where are the daredevils whose era has passed,
Who on weekdays – a fairy tale, in the epic – episode
Entered who did not chase income
And in passion did not draw a dagger?
Only myth is the last coal in this gray
The ashes of time – will still remind you in reality
Foggy rose with a dashing frame,
Groze Corrales or Balvanera.
Where in lanes and corners beyond
Desolation guards the earth
The one who passed and who remained a shadow –
Blade of Palermo, gloomy Muranya?
Where is the fatal Iberra (whose generosity
Churches do not forget), which brother
Killed because Nyato had victims
One more, and equalized two scores?
The mythology of daggers is gone.
Forgetfulness clouds faces.
The song of deeds withers and tries,
Becoming the property of detective annals.
But there is another fire, another rose,
Whose coals are still being burned today
Those damn unsatisfied pride
And those knives as a silent threat.
Enemy’s knife or other steel –
For years – you are dispassionately exposed,
But, neither years nor death are subject,
Those who have become dust will abide in the tango.
They are now in tune, in careless
Unyielding Guitar Chords,
Whose strings from a simple old milonga
Weave the feast of the valiant and blameless.
Lions and carousel horses are spinning,
And I see a shabby deck
And couples, under Arolas and Greco
Dancing tango on the panel
In a moment that is spellbound from destruction
And rises like a rock above the void,
Beyond past and future standing
Witness of death and resurrection.
Everything that is dilapidated is fresh in chords:
Yard and gazebo in vine leaves.
(Behind every watchful fence –
An ambush with a guitar and a dagger.)
This is demonism, this frenzy
With disastrous days only firmly.
Made of Time and Ashes,
We yield to a runaway cantilena:
She is only time. Weaves with her together
Mirage world, which is more everyday:
Unfulfillable dream about the fight of the ancient
And our death in the dead end of the suburbs.
(Translated by B. Dubin)
But, at the same time, tango reveals not only the soul of an entire nation, but also of each
individual, the tango always addresses each one individually:
Who expressed everything in this old tango,
whose sweetness long stopped
me by humble, small balconies
not your flourishing quarter?
Hearing his anguish, I imagined
that yard that I saw in one suburb,
when it was lit up by the sunset.
Like never before, at that moment I loved you.
And, clinging to the music, I am under the moon
under the heart of the street, motionless froze,
and the wind, chasing the night, rushed.
And the eternal tango beckoned me.
To new constellations. At the risk of being yourself.
To the memory of what I’m looking for with my eyes.
(H.L. Borges)
Memory
O mountains of Cordoba! So far
I remember everything: peace and idleness of the soul,
mint bloom, days monotony,
and the sky is a dazzling expanse.
Mimosa aroma wandered in the blood …
Crashed into pairs in the evening,
we listened like guitar strings
tango spoke to us about love.
We were young then… Over us
the chain of mountains floated like camel humps.
From long walks in the twilight hour
we returned with songs and laughter:
the spring air answered us with an echo
and the young disk of the moon looked at us.
(Alfonsina Storni, translated by Inna Chezhegova)
Tango dialogue between a man and a woman. And if a male voice that sounds
in tango, can be found in the poetry of Borges, then the female voice of tango is, in that
including the voice of Alfonsina Storni. She did not write lyrics for songs and
romances, but, of course, her poetry influenced the poetry of tango, those
texts that were composed on behalf of women. Her voice is passionate and gentle, quiet and
piercing, sad and sometimes ironic, was one of the most
significant in Argentine literature of the first half of the 20th century.
If from my fingers causeless tenderness
suddenly fly off, if from my fingers … then hers,
this tenderness lost, with a breath
this aimless tenderness, who will pick it up?
I could love this night endlessly,
I would fall in love with the first person I meet, but –
nobody. Lonely blooming trails.
The wind carries tenderness farther and farther.
..
If your eyes suddenly kiss, traveler,
this night, and in the breath of the branches oblivion,
if your fingers suddenly hand fleetingly
suddenly takes and releases, squeezes, disappears,
If that hand, you won’t see those lips,
kiss if the wind is a vision and that’s it,
you, oh traveler, whose eyes are as deep as the sky,
Do you recognize the flight of my tenderness in it?
Straight streets that are gray and dull,
where the sky is often visible, as from behind a fence,
and their asphalt, and their gloomy facades
My spring dreams have been robbed.
How much am I not seeing who is coming towards me,
I wandered through them – like through a cloudy dungeon.
Their monotony makes my soul languish.
And – “Alfonsina!” – don’t call. I will not reply.
Buenos Aires, if I die in autumn,
when you captivate the sky blue good,
a heavy tombstone will not surprise me.
I was already buried while I was
wandered the streets half dead
the river connected with water shot.
Buenos Aires is always tango, which Federico Garcia felt very sensitively
Lorca, who visited this city in the golden age of tango: “In Buenos Aires there are
something extraordinarily alive and peculiar to him alone: something full of
dramatic beat, something that is undeniable and natural among all his
numerous peoples; something that calls to us: Tango. In the heartbeat of everything
Buenos Aires sounds like a tango.”
Julio Cortazar, another famous Argentine known in our
country as a novelist and short story writer, also could not help but turn in his
creativity to tango, and in 1980 the album of Juan Cedron was released
Sidewalks of Buenos Aires, composed by Edgardo Canton and
texts Cortazar. And the circle closes Cortazar, who lived mainly in
Paris, wrote about his longing for Buenos Aires, the city in which he spent
Childhood and youth.
As in the poems of Evaristo Carriego, they are full of nostalgia:
You are looking at the Southern Cross
and breathe in the summer smelling of peaches,
and walking into the night, my little silent vision,
this Buenos Aires, this always the same Buenos Aires.
I miss Southern Cross,
when I have to raise my head because of thirst,
to drink your black wine, midnight.
And I miss the sleepy shops on the street corners,
where is the smell of grass
flutters on the skin of the air.
I miss your voice,
on our walks around this city.
Understanding that it will always be there somewhere,
as if in a bag in which every moment
hand looking for coin, comb, keys,
Relentless Hand of Dark Memory,
that counts their deaths.
Southern Cross, bitter mate,
and voices of friends,
erased along with others.
I’m hurt by this bitter time
full of dogs and misfortunes,
caught the belief that the return is in vain.