Milonga del alma IV
Alfredo Zitarrosa
Soul Milonga IV
(Milonga)
Certainly her soul, beautiful dark-skinned woman, went crazy when she became a mother; but he was aging and walked on paths where he could never confirm that love.
If the soul hurts, the soul is the matter,
the pained matter of being a man.
The soul sprouts like in misery
from the garbage dump, the red flower with no name.
And the soul hurts and bleeds and is violence
of the birth of a shivering child,
but other times it is transparency,
a reason for love against forgetting.
Don't look for it in dreams because it steps
on the same earth that your foot holds,
and it's mysterious like a smile
that comes when we are about to cry.
The soul is in the body, it's living flesh,
it's the purest blood in its artery,
the oil of peace given by the olive tree;
if the soul hurts, the soul is the matter.
It is said that he cried and kept talking about the crazy ones and their thoughts. But the truth is that we found him awake, looking at the sky, dead lying face up, clearly dawned, at six in the morning of that night... in another place.
(The italicized texts correspond to recited parts, belonging to Alfredo Zitarrosa)
