The twirling smoke of "Buddha"
spiral incense keeps vigil while I sleep;
its aroma filling the air of a warm January night.
The guardian angel protects the children
playing by the banks of the river.
And Jesus cries, with hands
an heart bleeding above the head of my bed.
The TV, unattended, plays Boris Karloff's "Suspense"
followed by "A time for Meditation"
On the first day of school terror sits by my side
and it stays growing with me over the years.
Feelings of guilt and shame sneak into my daily life.
Childhood turns into adolescence;
fusing terror and pleasure ealy knowledge
penetrates my heart and seduces me without mercy.
But even in "my sad night" (*)'s long hours of desolation
an almost imperceptible voice sounding just like mine
begins to murmur in my heart.
My mind keeps alive a past
that begins to shape my future.
It keeps rewinding and playing
again and again the scenes of terror
Can’t quite understand them.
Slowly fear becomes an ally
that teaches me to shut up and smile.
And although I’m only trying to survive
I can't stop thinking it would be better
to die, die and die.
We are always trying to escape the suffering;
to avoid the moments of pain and sadness.
Balancing on a tight rope are
our failures and our initiatives.
There is a time for suffering, a time for enduring;
and a time to stop and ask yourself
if persevering, if insisting
is not merely resisting an inevitable fate.
Even with my soul broken and surrounded by defeat
like a miracle two drops of love spring from my eyes.
RETURNING
Im coming back to my hometown and just like
That old tango "Volver" I see in the distance,
the flickering lights
Shining like sequins and diamonds
dear memories of a far away past come to my mind
Filled with friendship, love, the river, the summer.
I must have grown for everything
seems smaller than it was.
The old neighbourhood, the town school
where my first dreams were born
Everything welcomes me back with joy
Dissipating my melancholia.
I remember my family blowing kisses
as I turned the corner
The pain of that farewell still remains in my heart
Your soul dictates the dreams along the way
As you start walking, your own heart
will make clear the path clear.
Later I learned that success is not just a matter of talent,
Or persevering without a break
even when the storm strikes hard.
You get so used to swimming against the tide
Without noticing that the river
continually changes its course.
I come from a country that turns sadness into music
And celebrates love and friendship
in endless sobremesas (*)
And always finds a good reason to honor life
And indulge in love, wine and good food.
When desolation enters my heart to the sound of a zamba
And the melody of a tango gives way to the melancholy
When the words of those old songs
seem to mitigate your pain
You begin to doubt your dreams once more.
And although the pain returns with every farewell
The love in your heart grows each time we say goodbye
You realize your heart
is an endless spring of unconditional love
Pouring love for love is both
the source and the reason of your life.
While I Look at the Paraná
My dear old friend, I came to talk with you again.
You were my only confidant; I admire your depth,
the strength of your arms and your warm embrace.
You know very well that I'm not a river man
But I learned to speak your language;
I know your personality, stormy at times.
I know your generous soul and even your loneliness.
I am one of those who must leave,
Browse other rivers, wander, discover.
The beauty of your landscapes
is so vivid in the light of my memory.
Far away from you I learned to look at my life
As if I was looking at a play or someone else’s life
It’s so similar to yours dear old friend Paraná.
There are those like you who know where they are going
All the time; they never seem to doubt;
They swim in your stream because they’re certain
They will reach the ocean in the end.
It's not so easy to know the flow of one’s life
you have to navigate and navigate, gradually learn.
When you pour your heart you will see
It’s only just a matter of time.
Sometimes impatient one lets the current guide
and you find yourself in a whirlwind far away from your destiny,
but although the truth you seek lies inside of you,
you’ll have to venture to the heart of the sea
and only there and then you can look within yourself
My dear old friend Paraná.
DEAR TIGRE
Siempreviva
.It's good to know that you are alive
just like the siempreviva flower.
You have a practical,
yet profound wisdom;
I think your school was the best.
You have the gift of finding the good in everyone and the best of any situation.
You love life with passion;
you can find flowers in the desert
and beauty in every heart.
You've come to plant the seed of your presence in this far away garden of mine
and opened a door to a past of dear memories
Impregnated with fragrance of gardenia,
and of home food.
I carry your presence in my heart
like a flower in the hair,
for everyone to see; for everyone to love.
I've always wanted to leave behind a legacy
and now I realize
how much you are my heroine
and the model to follow.
Love flows from you
like fragrance flows from a flower.
You'll live in my heart forever like the siempreviva flower.
Nena and Manuelita
Nena I’m here once again
Paper, guitar and pencil in hand
Now that in my memory
the stories of yesterday still live on
Nena in the sky of my life
Your childhood
was like a shooting star
It left a trail of peace and
Chased my melancholy away
And still shines on today.
You used to run to my arms
Tired of fighting sleepy feelings
And say: Sing me Manuelita!
And I would, no matter what!
Sometimes she would
cross the ocean
Back and forth so many times
I would lose count and you:
Papa, wake up!
Did I ever shared with you
That way south of this great planet
at nap time and also at dusk
you can hear the wind whistling
Very softly a melody
While in the arms of their papas
Many nenas fall asleep
But my heart is small and, only
For one Nena, big enough
Just like Little Prince’s planet
Only one rose will ever survive.
No one, including me, wants
To hear long chats and sermons
you learn from the ones around you
And the lyrics of a song
When you arrived,
your life already has
Cast and crew and even a soundtrack
And when the road turns barren
and seems hard to find the path
The magic of a song
will come to bring you back to life.
Almost at the end of the road
you just start to discover
That everything
you always longed for
was never beyond your own nose.
Although just like Manuelita
until we find it, we might need to go
Swimming, maybe on foot,
Perhaps walking
From Pehuajo to Paris