Traducción de "¿Se acabó el vodka?"

Cita bibliográfica: Fadanelli, Guillermo. La polémica de los pájaros. 1st ed. Mexico: CONACULTA, 2007. 32-33.

Has the vodka finished?

I will receive the end of the century with vodka and cereals, only that; I am not an addict of the fin-de-siècle mythologies nor to the millenarian predictions; to me the end of the century happened long time ago, if not, why is there such kind of convulsed letarge in which we survive everyday? If we look a bit inside the chest of modernity, we will find that all of its objetcts and myths have inscribed the mark of the end of the world; I refer that everyone else look like they were infected with the virus of velocity. Is it not the idea of the avant-garde the announced suicide of linear time? And the habit of compressing history, of making it dietetic, is it not also a clear sign of obesity? The dead body is now like never in its expansive stage: It has to be put on diet!

The apocalypse is now or never, is it not a little ridiculous to wait until the last day of the milennium, and fulfill literally the rols of historical jesters? "Is ridiculous but necesary", say some, meanwhile, I will be lying in my bed, bored of others enthusiasms: lying, like I am now, waiting, wishing that Tyson continue biting: Come on Tyson! Who said you cannot bite? From what part of those white's asses blooms such prudery?

Lying while I am witness of how the beautifull and sunny banana republics discover democracy. Nothing more and nothing less than democracy; fuck, particularly I would rather prefer another type of name, maybe penicillin, autopsy, menopause, amputation: Limited forms of disgrace, nicknames to a morbid society; either way, there is no other path, the citizens require to be organized and governed embodying the democratic mass, I do not blame them nor condemn them, I wish them to live in peace, to dance harmoniously under the dawn of a new age; in that way I will manage to live without being bothered: a parasite, if you wish to call me, the adjectives I give them to you. Is it not a great alibi to live in the shadows of the civil herd?

I do not have many years left in me and I wish to live them in peace, lulled in the catchy jingle of the democrats. Is the vodka finished? Tyson, please, eat the ears of all those whites moralists, and of the balcks that follow them! Dammit! Where is the fucking vodka?