La primera sobriedad [English translation]

My violin receives the incontinence

of the end of a long life;

your bland Knorr broth carries me

slowly to the Reaper to take me to his cave.

I don't know, tell me if it's a mistake:

death is a logical remedy

and everything lasts so long here

because I'm sober and following my medication.

Enough with enemas, don't you see maybe,

that my belly has moved today?

And speak to me complicatedly of that love

worn out for sharing an surname

What makes me feel good? my symptoms ease

drinking my milk cup:

my chamber pot fills, my violin fills

and I find in a fruit yogurt

the route that puts and end to my constipation

staining my geriatric diaper.

A flavorless vegetable broth

drips by my mouth corners;

a herd of nurses

would leave me out to dry if I spill the compote

close the window, because in front

is the bar that gave me this cirrhosis

don't you see that I'm peeing

for an anisette or a Gin Fizz.

Enough with enemas, don't you see maybe,

that my belly has moved today?

And speak to me complicatedly of that love

worn out for sharing an surname

What makes me feel good? my symptoms ease

drinking my milk cup:

my chamber pot fills, my violin fills

and I find in a fruit yogurt

the route that puts and end to my constipation

staining my geriatric diaper.