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What the Hell Can I Do? (translation)

I posted this to my blog-blog (on write.as), but realized that I had not done so here.

This is my translation of a poem (of this name) by Jaime Sabines.

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What the hell can I do with my knee,

with this leg so long and so skinny,

with my arms, with my tongue,

with my weak eyes?

What can I do in this tangle

of imbeciles with good intentions?

What about with corrupt thinkers

Or sweet girls who want poetry, not a man?

What can I do among the poets made uniform

by academia or Communism?

What, among sellers or politicians

or shepherds of souls?

What the hell can I do, Tarumba,

if I’m no saint, or hero, or criminal,

or admirer of art,

or pharmacist,

or rebel?

What can I do if I can do anything

But just want to watch and watch?

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howl of angry old man