The Puppet
If for a moment God would forget that I
am a rag doll and give me a scrap of life, possibly I would not say everything
that I think, but I would definitely think everything that I say.
I would value things not for how much
they are worth but rather for what they mean.
I would sleep little, dream more. I
know that for each minute that we close our eyes we lose sixty seconds of
light.
I would walk when the others loiter; I
would awaken when the others sleep.
I would listen when the others speak,
and how I would enjoy a good chocolate ice cream.
If God would bestow on me a scrap of
life, I would dress simply, I would throw myself flat under the sun, exposing
not only my body but also my soul.
My God, if I had a heart, I would write
my hatred on ice and wait for the sun to come out. With a dream of Van Gogh I
would paint on the stars a poem by Benedetti, and a song by Serrat would be my
serenade to the moon.
With my tears I would water the roses,
to feel the pain of their thorns and the incarnated kiss of their petals...My
God, if I only had a scrap of life...
I wouldn't let a single day go by
without saying to people I love, that I love them.
I would convince each woman or man that
they are my favourites and I would live in love with love.
I would prove to the men how mistaken
they are in thinking that they no longer fall in love when they grow old--not
knowing that they grow old when they stop falling in love. To a child I would
give wings, but I would let him learn how to fly by himself. To the old I would
teach that death comes not with old age but with forgetting. I have learned so
much from you men....
I have learned that everybody wants to
live at the top of the mountain without realizing that true happiness lies in
the way we climb the slope.
I have learned that when a newborn
first squeezes his father's finger in his tiny fist, he has caught him forever.
I have learned that a man only has the
right to look down on another man when it is to help him to stand up. I have
learned so many things from you, but in the end most of it will be no use
because when they put me inside that suitcase, unfortunately I will be dying.
translated by Matthew
Taylor and Rosa Arelis Taylor
-----
Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Final Farewell
During the summer of 1999 Gabriel
Garcia Marquez, winner of the 1982 Nobel Prize for Literature and author of
such classics as One Hundred Years of Solitude, was treated for
lymphatic cancer. In the wake of that, there were persistent rumors about his
failing health.
On May 29, 2000 these rumors appeared to be confirmed when a poem that was
signed with his name appeared in the Peruvian daily La Republica. The
poem was titled "La Marioneta" or "The Puppet," and it was
reportedly a farewell poem that Garcia Marquez had written and sent out to his
closest friends on account of his worsening condition.
The text of the poem, as well as the news of Garcia Marquez's worsening
condition, quickly spread to other newspapers. On May 30 Mexico City dailies
reproduced it. La Cronica ran a headline that read "Gabriel Garcia
Marquez sings a song to life," and published the poem superimposed on a
photo of the novelist on its front page. The poem was also read on many radio
stations and spread quickly throughout the world via the internet.
The poem itself was highly sentimental and full of cliches that one would not
have normally expected from the great writer. For instance, the poem declared
at one point the author's desire to "live in love with love." (the
entire text of the poem, translated into English, is reproduced to the right).
Nevertheless, many who read it were deeply moved by what they took to be the
dying author's final message. For instance, one friend of Garcia Marquez, the
Indian filmmaker Mrinal Sen, told the Hindustan Times that upon reading
the poem he was flooded with memories from his 20 years of acquaintance with
the author.
However, it soon became clear that Garcia Marquez's condition had not worsened
recently, and he had not written the poem credited to him.
The poem turned out to be the work of an obscure Mexican ventriloquist named
Johnny Welch. Welch had written the poem for his puppet sidekick "Mofles,"
but somehow his name had been replaced by the name of the Nobel Prize winning
author.
Welch admitted that he was not a great writer, but told Mexico's InfoRed radio
station that he was nevertheless "feeling the disappointment of someone
who has written something and is not getting credit."
Garcia Marquez did not comment publicly on the poem. However, the week that the
poem was published, a legitimate piece by him did appear in print. It was an
essay on the Cuban castaway Elian Gonzales titled "Shipwreck on Dry
Land."
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Spavao bih manje, sanjao bih vise
Slikao bih Van Gogovim snom na zvezdama jednu Benedetijevu poemu,
a Seratovu pesmu bih poklanjao kao serenadu u casu svitanja.
Zalivao bih ruze da bih osetio bol od njihovih bodlji,
i strastveni poljubac njihovih latica. . .
Boze moj, kad bih imao jos samo jedan mali komadic zivota. . .
ne bih pustio da prodje ni jedan jedini dan a da ne kazem ljudima koje volim, da ih volim.
Uveravao bih svaku zenu i svakog muskarca da su mi najblizi i ziveo bih zaljubljen u ljubav.
Dokazivao bih ljudima koliko grese kada misle da prestaju da se zaljubljuju kad ostare,
a ne znaju da su ostarili kad prestanu da se zaljubljuju.
Deci bih darovao krila, ali bih im prepustio da sama nauce da lete.
Stare bih poducavao da smrt ne dolazi sa staroscu, vec sa zaboravom.
Toliko sam od vas naucio ljudi. . .
Naucio sam da citav svet zeli da zivi na vrhu planine,
a ne zna da je istinska sreca u savladjivanju litica.
Shvatio sam da kada tek rodjeno dete stegne svojom malom sakom, po prvi put, prst svoga oca, da ga je uhvatio zauvek.
Naucio sam da covek ima pravo da gleda drugog odozgo jedino kad treba da mu pomogne da se uspravi. Toliko sam toga mogao da naucim od vas, premda mi to nece biti od velike koristi, jer kada me budu spakovali u onaj sanduk, ja cu na zalost poceti da umirem.
