Re: Gabiel García Márquez se despide -- NOT (en Español and English)

Jose G. Perez jgperez at
Sat Aug 31 19:14:37 MDT 2002

    Esta fabricación ha estado circulando por la Internet desde hace ya
varios años. En un fraude. Gabo sería incapaz de escribir semejante texto
plagado de sentimentalismo y lugares comunes.

    This chestnut has been circulating on the Internet for several years
now. It is a fraud. Gabo would be incapable of writing this kind of
sentimentalist garbage.

>From a December, 2000, interview with Gabo:
(whole article is here:

*  *  *

Poem was hoax

While the author has residences in Mexico and Colombia, he has been living
in Los Angeles during his treatment and memoir-writing. The city is home to
one of his sons, filmmaker Rodrigo Garcia.

Garcia Marquez said the Internet poem heralding his death was nothing but a
hoax -- and a poorly written one at that.

"The only thing that worries me is that I'll die with the shame that people
believe I wrote something so tasteless," he said. "I read it not long ago
and what surprises me most is that my readers could believe that it was
written by me."

*  *  *

    For those who don't read Spanish, here is a translation o the "poem." It
is said to have been really written by a Mexican ventriloquist to be mouthed
by his dummy:

*  *  *

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

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

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

*  *  *


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