I will die in Paris under a downpour

One day of which I already have a memory.

I will die in Paris, and I will not run away.

Maybe on a Thursday, like it is today, in the fall.

Thursday will be, because today, Thursday, I prose these verses.

My humerus bones raise my bad feeling

As never before, and I have turned around

With my entire journey to see myself alone.

César Vallejo has died

They all beat him without him doing anything to them

They hit him hard with a stick

And hard also with a rope

Thursdays are witnesses, and humerus bones

The loneliness, the rain, the roads…

“Black Stone on a White Stone,” by César Vallejo

Translated into English by Louis Villalba, and dedicated to my always remembered friend Guillermo Cannon.

Today, I sat with my niece and goddaughter, Ana Belen. She introduced me to this remarkable poem by the celebrated Peruvian poet César Vallejo. He is considered one of the greatest innovators of 20th-century poetry. Vallejo died in Paris in 1938.

Original version:

Me moriré en París con aguacero
Un día del cual tengo ya el recuerdo
Me moriré en París y no me corro
Tal vez un jueves, como es hoy, de otoño

Jueves será, porque hoy, jueves, que proso estos versos
Los húmeros me he puesto a la mala
Y jamás como hoy, me he vuelto
Con todo mi camino, a verme solo

César Vallejo ha muerto
Le pegaban todos sin que él les haga nada
Le daban duro con un palo
Y duro también con una soga

Son testigos los días jueves y los huesos húmeros
La soledad, la lluvia, los caminos …

“Piedra negra sobre una piedra blanca,” de César Vallejo

Traducido al ingles por Louis Villalba, y dedicado a mi siempre recordado amigo Guillermo Cannon