Cantiga de La Memoria Rota
Patricio Manns
Song of the Broken Memory
The beach came to swim among my rocks,
The sea has watched me wave after wave,
The boat has steered my hull
And the seashell listens to my murmur.
The heat sheds my wool,
The sheep shears me every summer,
My father drinks my rough wine
And my mother hangs on to my gear.
A horse and its spur ride me,
A road steps on me daily,
The shoes of dust have trodden on me
And the sun considers me relentless.
The earth has prepared my smooth skin,
The plow furrows me fiercely,
The wheat has scattered my seeds
And the bread with clear teeth has bitten me.
A horse and its spur ride me,
A road steps on me daily,
The shoes of dust have trodden on me
And the sun considers me relentless
Burning people with its rays.
The cold makes a poncho with my blood,
The mouth of a howl proclaims me,
The house that inhabits me does not sweep me
And a bed sleeps over my expanse.
The door knocks me looking for someone,
The tear dries me with two handkerchiefs,
A mirror looks at my outrages
And there is a book that reads in my insomnia.
A cloud contemplates my fall,
The criminal comments on my misstep,
A country has searched for me on the map
And has never found the slightest trace
And that wound bandages my bitterness
And the dead one falls asleep in my arms.
