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                                    Madrigal

(Although the poem’s title takes on a well-known 16th Century form of Italian origin, made famous in Spain by Gutierre de Cetina, 1520-1554, here, Parra only manages to keep to a seven-syllable line at best, the rhyme scheme being quite wayward: abc/ddd/efeg/dhi/jkl. I have therefore not followed his wilfull versification.)


	I’ll become a millionaire in one night
   thanks to a trick which will permit me to fix images
	in a concave mirror. Or convex.

	It seems to me my success will be complete
   the moment I invent a coffin with a false bottom
    which will permit the corpse to slip into the other world.

	Indeed I have burned enough of the midnight oil
	  in this absurd horse race
      in which the jockeys are kept from riding the wild beasts
	and they’re going to tumble into the throng of spectators.

	It follows therefore that I should create something
	    which would permit me to live comfortably
	   or at the least permit me to expire. 

	I’m certain that my legs tremble
	    I dream that my teeth are falling out
	    and that I arrive too late to attend some funerals.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016

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