Salvalo mamita (Save it, pretty mama), by Julio Cortázar

(Introductory note: this is an example of what would be a magical poetry experiment; seemingly, and perhaps unconsciously, Julio saw it first. According to what science has found, another language carries a different thinking process; ergo, a poem in two languages could be, at least, an exotic experience. In this case I inverted the languages: wrote in spanish what was in english and vice versa)

"Save it, pretty mama,
save me so many sinking nights,
save your blue shirt (it was january, at Rome)
save it all, or save what you can.

This comes from below, mamita,
save it from oblivion, don´t let
the house rains off, that Giovanni´s
trattoria is erased,
run for me for you, save it now,
you´re leaving and the birds are dying,
you leave from me I leave from you, there´s no time,
save it mamita,
Satchmo´s voice and that shout that
sank you to the deepest of loves,
salvalo por mí,
salvalo por ti,
salvalo por nosotros.

Even though you save nothing, save it mamita."