Más Lejos, Más Cerca
Más Lejos, Más Cerca
Alguien se despertaba
pensando que la niebla
ponía un especial cuidado
en ocultar el crimen,
de allí salía un enloquecedor
vaho a petróleo.
Estaba en Wall Street.
Era yo quien comprendía
asomado en la niebla
que aquello era el crimen disfrazado
de hormigón con ventanas.
Que se agrandaba
perdiendo idea de su altura
viéndolos intervenir armados
hacia el cielo de otros.
Wall Street banca de sangre,
araña de tentáculos que hilan fríamente
la muerte de otros.
Pueblos que no se resignan
a morir sin estela de gloria y alegría;
que no se resignan
a querer ya en vida ser pasado.
Era yo quien oía
un crujido de huesos sin reposo
tratando de escapar
de aquellas cuentas secretas
donde fueron enterrados.
Robos calculados
por tu diplomacia del horror
que quisiera la intervención armada,
hasta en los astros.
Pero aún arde por América
el pulso de agónicas naciones
que me gritan con un mismo lenguaje
tramando su mortal sacudimiento.
Así un día tus 13 horizontales
verán desvanecerse
en una libertadora llama de petróleo
encendida por
pueblos que no se resignan...
...que no se resignan.
Further Away, Closer
Further Away, Closer
Someone woke up
thinking that the fog
was taking special care
to hide the crime,
from there came a maddening
petroleum vapor.
It was on Wall Street.
It was me who understood
peering into the fog
that it was the crime disguised
as concrete with windows.
That it enlarged
losing the idea of its height
seeing them intervene armed
towards the sky of others.
Wall Street blood bank,
spider with tentacles that coldly spin
the death of others.
Towns that do not resign
to die without a trail of glory and joy;
that do not resign
to already want to be past in life.
It was me who heard
a restless bone crunch
trying to escape
from those secret accounts
where they were buried.
Calculated thefts
by your diplomacy of horror
that would like armed intervention,
even in the stars.
But still burns through America
the pulse of agonizing nations
that shout at me with the same language
plotting their mortal shaking.
So one day your 13 horizontals
will see vanish
in a liberating flame of oil
ignited by
towns that do not resign...
...that do not resign.