I’ve often lost myself
in order to find the burn that keeps everything awake
I ride rough waters and shall sink with no one to save me.
Never regret thy fall,
O Icarus of the fearless flight
For the greatest tragedy of them all
Is never to feel the burning light.
«Para Julio Cortázar con la envidia y la amistad de Gabriel. 1966», dice la dedicatoria escrita por Gabriel García Márquez a Julio Cortázar en su libro “Los Funerales de la Mamá Grande”. Este fue uno de los más de 4.000 libros que Cortázar tenía en su bilbioteca personal en su casa en París. Su biblioteca personal fue donada en 1993 por Aurora Bernárdez a la Fundación Juan March.
If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.
Like a child, I think if you were here, I should be happy.
It passes, but it does not pass away.
García Márquez was one of the most joyful writers in Latin America. He was my little piece of home in a country and a culture where I do not belong completely. So no, I do not mourn his death, I’d rather celebrate his life and his talent with the last bottle of rum I’ve got and feeling grateful for everything he wrote.