‘The Ballad Of The Sad Cafe' Poem by Pedro Mexia

I bought the ‘Ballad of the Sad Café' from her,
after having almost passed as a book
thief, touching books without looking
at them, while I circled from all
sides those eyes that could be spotted
from every place in that book fair, even
if there came any obstacle that colour
green would have come through, green that turned
everything green between me and her and
in the midst of that unanimous colour the girl
stood out even more. It doesn't matter much,
reader, if afterwards the story went further,
between man and woman not much else
happens: eyes that are suddenly
necessary and may take you for
a book thief or worse.
I've never read ‘The Ballad of the Sad Café'.

Translated by Ana Hudson