He who always tried kicking the football
That Lucy pulled away from his foot
The boy whose comet a tree devoured.
The work of a sad cartoonist
Who portrayed himself even at his worst,
Left by his wife with depression gripping at his neck.
The day Charlie Brown decided to make a living
Getting a job for which he lacked any skills
Exiting the suffocating world of infancy
And ending up in an alley a hundred times worse
A drunken, mediocre writer, forever bald
Spending his nights in front of a page,
Drawing the vivid sweater of he who was his father
A neurotic cartoonist beloved by children
With all alternate lives destroying him
Both deriving, towards the end of the day,
To a demolishing dialogue about psychiatrists,
Treatments, and a need for love
When the jazz ends in a darkened room,
It snows and Charlie Brown lies in bed,
Imagining a happy picture:
a football taking flight in the wind.
Translated by Claudia Rojas
“Charlie Brown” first appeared in the collection Paseantes (Ediciones del Temple, 2009).
You can read and listen to the poem in the original Spanish here.