There is always something marvellous when one reads a collection of poems by Mexican poet Jaime Sabines (1926-1999). Especially a recent collection of his love poetry beautifully illustrated by Amanda Mijangos that makes for a memorable experience.
The short introduction by Mario Benedetti states that Sabines was “without a doubt the most most notable precursor of the coloquial poetry in Latin America.” Here the term colloquial is not a pejorative but rather that his “poesía amorosa” is an astute observation of that, oh so elusive emotion. Love can be magical but also full of traps and of course, can go bad. Sabines comes out in full force.
The focus in this short book (157 pages) the is on his earlier work that established his skills. In 1950, he published “Horal” which includes one of his most well known pieces Los amorosos:
Los amorosos callan.
El amor es el silencio más fino,
el más tembloroso, el más insoportable.
Los amorosos buscan,
los amorosos son los que abandonan,
son los que cambian, los que olvidan.
Su corazón les dice que nunca han de encontrar,
no encuentran, buscan.
The lovers are silent.
Love is the silence most fine,
The most shaky, the most unbearable.
The lovers search,
The lovers are the ones who abandon,
They are the ones who change, the ones who forget.
Their heart tells them that they will never find,
They don’t find it, they keep searching.
The poem goes on. The lovers are crazy, crazy without god nor the devil, they simply chase ghosts, and love is a game. The sad game of love, in that game of life.
Sabines returned in 1951 without La señal (The Sign) and “Adan y Eva” in 1952. To me the latter is an outstanding piece. Adam and Eve, alone in the world, discovering themselves, the world around them, the land and sea, the plants, the birds, and animals. Adam leaves Eve for three days (presumably searching) and discovering longing, desire, and the outcome of that desire are what makes up the word “love.” No apple is needed.
Love can die (No es que muera de amor, muero de ti, p. 109) or love can ruin one (yo estoy arruinado / Estoy arruinado de mis huesos / todo es pesadumbre. p. 114) and love is stubborn (No es nada de tu cuerpo / ni una brizna, ni un pétalo / ni una gota, ni uno grano, ni un momento: / Es solo este lugar donde estuviste / estos mis brazos tercos. p. 119). Finally love is a drug (Qué droga tremenda es el amor? p. 157). Once we get it, we are hooked.
All those traits of love. We can all relate to these feelings, can’t we?