We, the unspeakable - Elvio Romero I
We were nameless and,
the outcasts of the glebe,
those who just had a name,
poor live in the land, the
bitter signal carrying a punishment for dark circles,
the planting on foreign soil,
clothes outside the dress, which were
in passing
half blood between the stones,
the ignored people,
the contempt and insults,
Who let the evening
animals and bonfires. We were
and unspeakable,
poor and ragged children
who were called by a whistle,
or a gesture, or just half of the name;
who could live under the rain and wind and
Frost, barefoot, and at night cold and cruel neglect, and have
ague and envy the brave
and stone lanterns hanging from the slums, or dying
elderly die
of ephemeral illusion, blown from below.
We could follow the railway
like the path to the extent of our desires
- bright or obscured by distance and time -
urinating in the gutter at dusk and have burning
harsh and haughty gesture. We dreamed
vast lakes and cabins in the midst of deep forests,
dreamed bandits besieged in
gates and could fall, cross-shells, with joy on their horses
breathless, fast-paced and crazy!
II and
We were nameless, poor
men on earth, those red lips
by stones or by violence,
face the hard and dry, the bold
in quarrels,
those who held on his chest and resistance
sunflowers,
flashes in front
uprisings in the language, who let loose by
night animals and bonfires. Life
ours, dark
to know all the famines,
and trails of the rain and the landscape,
of the gales that bend in the stem
burning naps fine of mandiocales;
knew delirious embarrassment summer in the coconut,
animals licked the stick of the blind and
snakes and wild flowers.
roads knew of the workshops and fields,
of the mysterious plants on the edge of the marshes,
sticky sweat of the workers in the rumor noon
handkerchief embroidered by hand hungering for virgin girls;
outsiders knew the brands of the cards in port
the strange silence of insurance and violent men. Perhaps we discovered
as he lay on the shock of our dreams, the desire rebellious
steel
hidden in the waist of the brave who died singing, music
orange groves, the murmur that sounds like rain inside,
scar the pawns
indecipherable had stories about the dark at midnight. We learned songs
of haughty independence, we played guitars
whose deep secret was secret
of the cautious and saddened,
learned the words to intimidate with his audacity and fury
as the glory of the hymns warriors wore the chest
yellow leopard naked hot funds
of forests and quaking.
knew
plantations and land kissed by the Seven Sisters,
which saved us the most barbarous crops, which
warm blood left in the sponge squeezed and pressed
our brown skin;
knew the brightness vengeful machetes
still resting the knees which broke suddenly from the mountains
wet and angry, huge and grim, and virility decent
and lewd regions of tortured silence and
ring of fire of the summer.
III
We were made of red earth and words
street,
of basic dough and wood
primitive, early bird
hardened burnt in the dust storms,
to pull himself up on the weather,
up early in the capueras ,
born and, as they say,
poor harvest time,
on roads broken by misfortunes and complaints
,
overshadowed by drooping gesture,
by a target of violence.
And we were and the unspeakable,
the poor children of the earth. Life
ours, dark
to know all the famines,
having heard his breath waiting for endless days,
the sad tears of rain on the plains, have tried
sip bitter misfortune. And one day we realized
downwind of the muscles that are roasted
the wild side of a rising sun.
We, the slaves always
men stare as the curve of the river downspouts
those bare feet wide as the leaves of the tobacco,
captured by the blows, attached to the walls charred
the extent of the estates hellish thick, which made
children as spitting air, which led
the chest burned the crops and tattoos
suddenly realized the relentless desire of our throats, there was no miracle
comparable to the miracle of our powerful hands.
Everything took on a predominant color, passion
rose and the mystery cleared, rivers
up early on the assumption of healthy glow,
way of shortening the pressure determined steps man;
all animated by the breath of a true light, Parquet
used when you regain your fire vigilance, a certain muscular
and brave.
One day we realized that the revolution is not just a word
of youth violence, but the water flowing to the constant thirst for men
that could bring dignity, hard and deep,
and attachment to life and
beat the holy innocent exchange of emotion between people.
That is how the fidelity of both hands in love under the moon.
That is like opening a source in a dry land on the moon.
That is like warm milk a beautiful mother in the moonlight.
Or the cry of a child under the moon.
And we knew that there are nights
forehead resting on the chest of the day,
and strong men, like ours, which hold the damp morning
and flowers in hand
rave pink for girls, candid and push
sleepy sleepy break coconuts on the staff of the breeze, and bonfires
raise their blue haze among the hills,
of the stars that guide waves fugitive beaches.
That would not have crossed paths,
or neglected the stray signals, or challenges
dark;
summer to meet his journey, his birth
seed of brilliance and hard and old
King of heaven on his way. Then we understood
life
have a strange beauty as a tree of birds and months pregnant,
we could lift his head and look at the sky
without fear and without shame,
right lung to breathe the invigorating freshness of the roots
wonderful.
That would open the floodgates rebelling closed, the curtain of the sullen and painful evenings,
we could make love,
sheer courage,
singing,
smile,
and fertilization of the water!
We understood us! We, the unspeakable.
(Elvio Romero - The nameless - from 1959 to 1973)
