Existe una distancia incalculable
que no se mide en horas ni en pulgadas
ni en millas ni en semestres ni en tamaños
lejos y cerca son casi lo mismo
y es la frágil distancia del amor
en ese territorio que es del alma
la nostalgia está lejos y nos mide
el tacto es un placer de cercanías
en extraños azares sin embargo
la nostalgia del tacto se inaugura
y entonces la distancia es sólo un punto el punto del amor ese infalible.
~ Distancia- Mario Benedetti
A very, very loose translation:
There is an incalculable distance that is unable to be measured in hours and not in inches or miles or semesters or sizes that are far and near and yet about the same distance and the fragile of love in that territory which is the soul ‘s longing We measured distance, touch is a pleasure to nearby strangers chances and yet nostalgic a touch that opens and then the distance is only a point of point love that is infallible.
~ Distance-Mario Benedetti
When my son was about 4 he created a unit of measure he called “Pizza Units”. So set was he in this measurement that he informed me that I was 17 pizza units tall. The other marvels of pizza units is that it was not just a way to measure length or distance. It also measure the ephemeral and eternal aspects of our lives, it could measure things like love. My love was “infinity pizza units, plus 1”.
My son has a distinction of being a first generation American as well as a sixth generation Arizonan. And in spite of his American birth, it was clear to me that in spite of his practical and American birthplace, it is as if through something far more magical that he was able to capture the gentle spirit of the enchanted lands that raised his mother and there is something in that for which I am tremendously grateful.