Fragmento de Catalino Paredes

These fragments of Catalino Paredes, I clarify that it's an imaginary name
out of simple respect for his true name and memory
are some of a few quatrains
that every so often appear to me
reminding me of those men who shaped the previous era
to the one I live in
and luckily I knew some of them
maybe because in rural or inland towns
as it's often said
memories take longer to fade and yesterdays are closer than in big cities
time is enough for everything
and within those things
there's the time that a man
takes so his time
doesn't get lost in a time too close
I believe there are men who die forever and others don't
I believe the one who wants to live forever dies forever
and I believe haste is a way to die forever
You can't look a child passing by us in the eyes
that's why I believe a man running ahead of everything
has no time to do something as important
as the life he wastes, it's a way to die forever
In his own way and without much haste
don Catalino Paredes was in the town
one more step of the many men like him
who were, so the rest of us could see from a bit
higher up what kept us a bit lower
He knew how to lend a hand to anyone
no matter the badge of the one asking
his was the only one that mattered, the Argentine gaucho's
He always had little to give, and he gave it.
He Don Catalino, like almost all from that time
used to show above the edge of the sash
the silver handle of the knife or the grip of the .38 revolver
but he, like almost all, never shot a bullet at anything that wasn't a cat or some dubious origin lamb
but it was manly to walk shod
and more when one was half the owner of the house in the committee
He took care of preparing the ground for those who came from other towns to give the main speech.
In all the events was the same audience,
it was something like free entertainment
like going to the station to see the train when it was due
if I remember correctly, even numbers to the south and odds inward
trains don't run anymore either.
If I hadn't seen it, I'd say this is a tale,
just a tall tale to make the moment laugh
that one sometimes says things by tens or hundreds
and wherever one wants to fantasize, one puts the accent.
That's why if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have imagined it
don Catalino Paredes, the one with the red poncho
they told me it's funny, and he's always drunk
piling up misery, ragged and filthy
he goes into the bar and falls asleep sitting
he talks to himself, and sometimes he even seems dead.
don Catalino Paredes, the one with the red poncho
if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have imagined it.
The thing comes from afar, and another thing was the town
politicians, committees, thugs and beaten up
dark rooms for some, for others enlightened
half-baked promises, loaded and roasted
holster with two pistols lead Dum Dum or Crossed
it was the law of the caudillo even if not voted
he always fixed things and the most tangled case
was a friend of the mayor, the doctor and the deputy
but he never denied a favor even to the poorest wretch
don Catalino Paredes, the one with the red poncho
He spoke in the ranches, in the square, and the stage
of the hospital, the school and the red poncho
he said injustice was an inherited package
and the one who sponsored it had everything planned
that if they won, no one would be left helpless
for the homeland and the flag... and the little red poncho.
That's why, if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have imagined
piling up misery, alone sad and beaten
he, who stood up to the most renowned shooter
now doesn't even play marbles for fear of losing
what saint will be waiting for his worn-out heart
oh old piece of land that never had a lock
don Catalino Paredes, the one with the red poncho.