Jaime Sabine was a Mexican poet who lived from 1926 - 1999. Known for his commentary on everyday people, street scenes, it was fitting that I came across this book in an outdoor street market on a recent trip to Mexico.
The book seller was quite thrilled to sell me this book and the price was not bad either. Most of the books in the stall were full of big name American authors translated into Spanish so I asked for any Mexican authors. He pointed out about five or six, all that I had read. So I was thrilled to find the Sabines whose book “Letters to Chepita” I had recently read. This book was a collection of letters to his wife in their early years of their long marriage. Now I needed the poems.
I won’t lie. I found this collection that spans from 1950-1993 overwhelming. Not in a bad sense, in fact the opposite. I had read some of his early work and it was very enjoyable. I find Sabines’ language not just easy to read, but the flow is remarkable. One page leads to another poem. His topics vary from love and women (typical of a young man) but to the everyday. A cat, a street, an old woman, a bar. Everyday images woven into thoughts on life, death and living.
The devil and I understand each other:
“El diablo y yo nos entendemos
como dos viejos amigos.
A veces se hace mi sombra,
va a todas partes conmigo.”
(La señal, p. 85)
I don’t want peace, there is no peace, I want my solitude:
“No quiero paz, no hay paz,
quiero mi solidad.
Quiero mi corazón desnudo
para tirarlo a la calle;
quiero quedarme sordomudo.”
(La señal, p. 99)
On graveyards:
“No digamos la palabra del canto,
cantemos. Alrededor de los huesos,
en los panteones, cantemos.”
Sigue la muerte, p 123
Adam and Eve, they were in paradise, but nothing happens there:
“-Estábamos en el paraíso. En el paraíso no ocurre nunca nada.”
(Adan y Eva), p. 133
It occurred to me that reality is better than dreams:
“Ocurre que la realidad es superior a los sueños. En vez de pedir ‘déjame soñar’, se debería decir: ‘déjame mirar’.”
(Diario semanario y poemas en prosa), p. 207
About changing cultures:
“La television y el cine han substituido a los abuelos y todo la técnica se acerca al milagro para anunciar jabones y dentífricos.” P. 208
Let’s sing to money, with the gusto of a Christian Christmas spiritual:
Cantemos al dinero
con el spiritual de la navidad cristiana.
No hay nada más limpio que el dinero,
Ni más generoso, ni más fuerte.
El dinero abre todas las puertas;
Es la llave de la vida jocunda, la Vera del milagro, el instrumento de la resurrección.
Te da lo necesario y lo innecesario,
El pan y la alegría.
Si tu mujer está enferma puedes curarla,
si es una bestia puedes pagar para que la maten.
El dinero te lava las manos
de la injusta y del crimen,
te aparta del trabajo,
te absuelve de vivir.
Puedes ser como eres con el dinero en la bolsa,
el dinero es la libertad.
Si quieres una mujer y otro y otra, cómpralas,
si quieres una isla, cómprala,
si quieres una multitud, cómprala.
(Es el verbo más limpio de la lengua: comprar.)
Yo tengo dinero quiere decir me tengo.
So mío y soy tuyo
en este maravilloso mundo sin resistencias.
Dar Dino es dar amor.
(Yuliana, p. 373)
Of getting old and forgetful:
Me reprochan mi mala memoria,
Pero yo descubro que el olvido
Es la sobrevivencia.”
(Otros poemas sueltos, p. 538
Through his life, he commented on Cuba, the gringos, Tlatelolco, the death of his father, his stomach, his bed, insomnia, illness, smoking, drinking, the death of a child and the marriage of his youngest child. In short, everything in his life. He tells it with such candor and frankness. Despite his fame, he appeared humbled and almost mocked himself claiming is was nothing other than a simple poet.
His last poem really hits home. Me encanta Dios (I love god) but not in a religious sense, just simple admiration, and maybe a little fear for a magnificent old man who doesn’t take himself too seriously.
Me encanta Dios. Es un viejo magnifico que no se toma en serio. A él le gusta jugar y juega, y a veces se le pasa la mano y nos rompe una pierna o nos aplasta definitivamente. Pero esto sucede porque es un poco cegaron y bastante torpe de las manos. (P. 547)
If you get a chance, read a little of Jaime Sabines. Or read a lot. His words shine.