Acudiendo a la invitación de Club de Poesía, promovido por 
Accepting the invitation of the Poetry Club, promoted by
Había pasado tanto tiempo y entre las corrientes tantas memorias. Habían sido muchas las leídas —mi vida se nutría de las lecturas—, hasta no saber cuáles eran mis memorias. Viví las de ultratumba de Chateaubriand, las del subsuelo de Dostoyevski, las de Adriano de Yourcenar, las de África de Dinesen, hasta las de mis putas tristes de García Márquez... Y seguía apegado a ellas, como si una vida otra se apropiara de mí.
Como el poeta cumanés de La torre de Timón, yo era el cuerpo habitado por las memorias, y no creía que pudiera hacerme de las mías, pues les temía tanto. Un día encontré un viejo papel en donde hablaban de un personaje que llevaba mi nombre. Leí aquel relato y supe que no volvería a recordarme.
From the life of memories (literary exercise)
So much time had passed and so many memories among the currents. I had read many – my life was nourished by readings – until I did not know which were my memories. I lived those of Chateaubriand's afterlife, those of Dostoyevsky's underground, those of Adriano by Yourcenar, those of Dinesen's Africa, even those of García Márquez's My Sad Whores... And I remained attached to them, as if another life had taken over me.
Like the Cumanés poet of La torre de Timón, I was the body inhabited by memories, and I did not believe that I could make my own, because I feared them so much. One day I found an old paper in which they talked about a character who had my name. I read that story and knew that he would never remember me again.
Translated with Google Traductor
Este post es parte de mi entrada al reto #Hive14Challenge con 