Traducciones: Roberto Bolaño (1953-2003)
Traducciones / Translations
A FLY INSIDE A FLY A THOUGHT INSIDE A THOUGHT AND MARIO SANTIAGO INSIDE MARIO SANTIAGO 
A person -a stranger I should say- that caress you
A stranger is thrown across the bed
A woman -I ought to say a stranger- who caresses you
A woman's voice says she loves
All the stores were closed today
As persianas deixam passar, apenas, dois raios de lua 
At 4 a.m. old photographs of Lisa
Beautiful unremembered moments
Blood coagulated on horizontal glass.
Docks Every evil spirit brightens up
DON'T WRITE POEMS BUT SENTENCES
Dorme abismo meu, os reflexos dirão
Esperas que desapareça a angústia
FRITZ LEIBER REREADS SOME OF HIS STORIES
Go to hell, Roberto, and remember you'll never
Guiraut Sitting on the tavern porch
I asked if she was still there
I deserved every bit of it, boss, don't turn on the light.
I may have been drunk, but I saw
In a thounsand years nothing will be left
It's hardly surprising that the author's room is full of allusive posters
Maybe I don't love anyone in particular, she said
Middle Ages of long hair untouched by the wind
My gift to you will be an abyss, she said
Ninguém te manda cartas agora Debaixo do farol
Now you walk alone along the piers
OUTRO AMANHECER NO CAMPING ESTRELA DO MAR
Sleep my abyss, reflexes may tell me
Strange gratuitous occupation To go losing your hair
Switchblade to the neck and the
THE DAY WILL COME WHEN THEY'LL CALL YOU FROM THE STREET
The nightmare begins over there, right there
The Persian blinds let in, scarcely, two beams of moonlight
The protagonist is left with adventure
The real situation: I was alone in my house
The stranger is sprawled on the bed
Todo o comércio estava fechado hoje
Truth is I'm the one who's most afraid
Two in the morning and a blank screen
Uma voz de mulher disse que ama
What could Mario be doing in Mexico?
When I think of people whose lives go to shit each day
Write of widows, the abandoned ones
Write red sex cross-cut by gray palm trees
You wish the angst would go away