Let’s come to an agreement, poem.
I’ll stop forcing you to say what you don’t mean
and you won’t resist my desires.
We’ve wrestled a lot, you and I.
Why insist on creating yourself in my image
when you know things I’m ignorant of?
Free yourself from me
Run away and don’t look back.
Save yourself before it’s too late.
See, you always outdo me,
you know how to say what inspires you
and I don’t,
because you’re more than yourself,
and I’m just trying to recognise myself in you.
I have manifold desires
and you have none,
you just press on regardless
not looking at the hand that you move
and which thinks it owns you when it feels you spring forth
like matter new-created.
Impose your direction on the one doing the writing, all he
knows is how to hide,
to conceal novelty, to become less.
His lot is tired
push me aside.
“Las Paces,” © Rafael Cadenas. Translation © 2014 by Lucy Greaves. All rights reserved.