García Márquez’ “The Puppet”: Not His, but Nice Reading Nevertheless…
Colombiano, and neighbor, Gabriel García Márquez—long version, Gabriel José de la Concordia García Márquez—is by far my most favorite author (Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, a.k.a “Dr. E” comes in a close second).
We have all read and enjoyed the works of this 1982 winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature—works such as “Love in the Time of Cholera,” “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” “the Autumn of the Patriarch,” etc.
In late 1999-early 2000, there were reports that García Márquez had fallen seriously ill and a “farewell” poem attributed to him and to his failing health started making the rounds.
The poem was titled “La Marioneta” (“The Puppet”) and although it was not “up to par” with García Márquez’ style and quality, it continues to make its rounds via the internet and continues to be attributed to the great author.
As it turns out, a Mexican ventriloquist named Johnny Welch wrote the poem. “Welch had written the poem for his puppet sidekick ‘Mofles,’ but somehow his name had been replaced by the name of the Nobel Prize winning author.”
Nevertheless, the poem is a nice one, has some good lessons for life—some may call them clichés—and is suitable reading for those of us approaching the autumn/winter of our lives and for all this holiday season. Enjoy. (Translated by Matthew Taylor and Rosa Arelis Taylor)
o If for a moment God would forget that I am a rag doll and give me a scrap of life, possibly I would not say everything that I think, but I would definitely think everything that I say.
o I would value things not for how much they are worth but rather for what they mean.
o I would sleep little, dream more. I know that for each minute that we close our eyes we lose sixty seconds of light.
o I would walk when the others loiter; I would awaken when the others sleep.
o I would listen when the others speak, and how I would enjoy a good chocolate ice cream.
o If God would bestow on me a scrap of life, I would dress simply, I would throw myself flat under the sun, exposing not only my body but also my soul.
o My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hatred on ice and wait for the sun to come out. With a dream of Van Gogh I would paint on the stars a poem by Benedetti, and a song by Serrat would be my serenade to the moon.
o With my tears I would water the roses, to feel the pain of their thorns and the incarnated kiss of their petals…My God, if I only had a scrap of life…
o I wouldn’t let a single day go by without saying to people I love, that I love them.
o I would convince each woman or man that they are my favourites and I would live in love with love.
o I would prove to the men how mistaken they are in thinking that they no longer fall in love when they grow old–not knowing that they grow old when they stop falling in love. To a child I would give wings, but I would let him learn how to fly by himself. To the old I would teach that death comes not with old age but with forgetting. I have learned so much from you men….
o I have learned that everybody wants to live at the top of the mountain without realizing that true happiness lies in the way we climb the slope.
o I have learned that when a newborn first squeezes his father’s finger in his tiny fist, he has caught him forever.
o I have learned that a man only has the right to look down on another man when it is to help him to stand up. I have learned so many things from you, but in the end most of it will be no use because when they put me inside that suitcase, unfortunately I will be dying.