Exhausted I dreamed of the pleasure that arises
Exhausted I dreamed of the pleasure that arises,
but lives without me, as it shines and passes:
its rush to burn delays
and subtracts me from what within me devours.
Detached from me who falls in love
and in its fire absorbed the scarce life,
I am the sterile residue of its embers
and death wins me from now on.
What happens for me is not equaled
nor restored after it appears;
I am only its absence, which remains.
Oh death, idle for the past,
your shadow is vast and the occasion and the nest
of the defect that I am of what I have been.
Jorge Cuesta, Córdoba (Veracruz) 1903 - Mexico City 1942
On August 13, 1942, the Mexican poet, Jorge Cuesta left his life after finding the exit in the sheets of his bed with which he hung himself.
Cuesta was admitted to a mental health asylum for having relapsed into a paranoia crisis that he had already faced with success two years ago.
He was 38 years old and in life he never saw any of his books published.
