La Tregua
Patricio Manns
The Truce
The fire of a cigarette shines over there,
The smoke floats and dies as it rises.
Among the grass, I feel sobbing
because this is not peace,
the truce is barely there.
The war stinks all around,
while I write to you about my rifle,
perhaps the last love letter.
I don't want your pain,
I don't want your pain,
but today I sensed it.
The only truth is not the napalm
nor the rifle.
My whole being wants to escape from the cruel
obligation
of killing someone I never
knew,
I knew.
Today I suddenly remembered my childhood:
I saw the blue sky, the time that passed,
my brother in the sun, running through the cornfields,
while here we both were killing.
Tell whoever you want that he already deserted,
that he went far away, that he won't come back.
I will search for the flower he didn't find,
the flower of friendship,
and I will plant it in the ground where he is.
The fire of a cigarette shines over there,
The smoke floats and dies as it rises.
Among the grass, I feel sobbing
because this is not peace,
because this is not peace,
the truce is barely there.
