Dicen

This is a piece I wrote about freedom...

DICEN…

Dicen que se puede vivir sin ti,
que sin ti pueden crecer los niños,
que las auroras siguen encendiendo sus luces
y siguen siendo hermosos los ocasos.

Dicen que sin ti el aire es el mismo,
que los pájaros siguen trinando alegremente,
que las rosas siguen floreciendo,
y el aroma de las flores, deleitándonos.

Dicen que sin ti hasta las cúspides se alcanzan,
que hasta el más pequeño insecto sigue vivo,
que los arroyos siguen su cauce, indiferentes
y la lluvia se resuelve en arco iris.

Dicen que sin ti hay ilusiones,
que hay promesas cumplidas por la vida,
que hasta se pueden componer canciones
y se danza sin melodía.

Dicen que sin ti el orden es perfecto,
que las palabras las borra el viento,
que se vive en un sopor constante,
y los deseos son irrelevantes.

Eso dicen....
pero no...
yo no sé vivir si no es contigo...

Desde siempre te llevo en mi ser,
aprendí a quererte
como se quiere el alba y el anochecer.

Tus colores eran rutina de todos los días,
tu sonido era como el canto de los pájaros,
dulce, armonioso
y a la vez, tenue, silencioso.

Diste vida,
escribiste poemas y canciones,
pintaste cuadros
y enseñaste a recoger desilusiones,
arrojándolas al olvido.
.
Tu color preferido,
el verde de la esperanza...

Hoy no tienes nombre:
tu incierta faz, antes luminosa,
hoy se oculta en las sombras,
tu voz recia y clara
hoy se acalla...
solo se oye un tenue susurro
entre el miedo que devora las entrañas.

Sin ti, no hay poesía,
los cuentos no tienen final,
los sentimientos no tienen cabida
y la pluma no tiene lugar.

Y tú, que nunca hablaste de odio,
que siempre hermanaste a las razas,
que en tu vocabulario no tuvo cabida la palabra venganza,
hoy yaces caída, humillada, destrozada…
hoy…
el odio te acaba.

Estoy sola,
miro a mi alrededor y estoy sola...
.
Calladamente te llevo en los pasos que doy,
la luna derrama raudales de plata sobre la ciudad
y como vil ladrona robo los colores del amanecer
para imprimir como tatuaje en mi piel
los sabores que un día me diste...

Sé que algún día regresarás
y si hoy vagas por almas vacías y desoladas,
habrá un mañana...
.
Y los ruines tratarán de esconderse y no podrán,
pues tu voz resonará hasta los confines del Universo
y te acompañaré en tu grito:
¡a nadie di permiso para matar en mi nombre!
.
Y tu grito removerá las tumbas,
y el viento se tornará palabra,
y los sordos te oirán, cautivados
y los ciegos te verán, pasmados
y la fuente de la verdad derramará su elixir
por el laberinto de la justicia

Nos encontraremos de nuevo por el camino:
yo,
tu fiel amiga
tu,
la Libertad.

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Comment by Elisabetta on August 30, 2008 at 2:05am: This is a translation of the piece, keep in mind that it is a free translation, because my writing skills in english are not so good. I think there are a bunch of gramatical errors, but maybe the meaning is clear.

They Say...

They say that it is possible to live without you,
that without you, children can grow up,
that auroras continue lighting up
and sunsets continue been beautiful.

They say that without you the air is still the same,
that birds are still happily singing,
that roses continue to flourish,
and the aroma of flowers continue to delight us.

They say that without you
even the highest summits are reached,
that even the smallest insect is still alive,
that streams follow their bed, indifferent
and the rain still resolves in rainbows.

They say that without you there are illusions,
that life still keeps its promises,
that it is even possible to compose songs
and one can dance without melody.

They say that without you the order is perfect,
the words are erased by the wind,
that everyone lives in a constant drowsiness,
and that wishes are irrelevant.

They say ....
but no ...
I do not know how to live
if it is not with you ...

From all times I carry you in my being,
I learned to love you
as one loves down and dusk.

Your colors were like everyday routine,
your sound was like bird’s songs,
sweet, harmonious
and at the same time, soft, silent.

You gave life,
wrote poems and songs,
you painted paintings
and taught to collect disappointments,
throwing them into oblivion.

Your favorite color,
the green of hope ...

Today you have no name:
your vague face, which was bright before,
today it is hidden in the shadows,
and your voice once so loud and clear
is fading today ...

It is only heard a faint whisper
among the fear that devours wombs.

Without you, there is no poetry,
stories have no endings,
feelings have no space
and the pen has no place.

And you, that never spoke about hate,
that always harmonized the races,
that in your vocabulary you did not include the word revenge,
today you lie fallen, humiliated, shattered...
today...
hate destroys you.

I am alone,
I look around and I'm alone...

Quietly, I carry you in my steps,
the moon pours silver over the city,
and as a vile thief, I steal the colors of dawn
to print, as tattoos on my skin,
the flavors that one day you gave to me...

I know that someday you will return
and if today you wander over empty
and desolate souls,
there will be a tomorrow...

And the wicked will try to hide,
but they will not be able to do so
because your voice will reverberate trough
the Universe’s confines
and I shall join you in your shout:
I did not give anyone permission to kill in my name!

And your cry will remove the graves,
and the wind will become words,
and the deaf will hear you, subdued
and the blinds will see you, astounded
and the source of truth will pour its elixir
through the maze of justice.

Again, we will find each other on the path:
I,
your faithful friend
you,
Freedom.