El Viejo Matías
Victor Heredia
Old Matías
The rain and the wind were two brothers
Running furiously along the embankment
And on a dark, wet, and dirty bench
He adjusted his gray uniform
Old Matías sleeps anywhere
A wandering ghost touches his skin
But when it rains, his remains seek
The scrap metal station of Paso del Rey
He's a boogeyman for children and not-so-children
His sad figure crossing the platform
Because no one has seen his tired eyes
The burden of oblivion trembling at his feet
Sometimes he mumbles incoherent things
Talks about the war, imitates the cannon
And other times he puts a child in his eyes
And cradles his brown bag in his arms
When trains full of workers arrive
He gets happy, his gaze shines
Sparrow of the evening, he wants to talk to everyone
And then he stays alone on the platform
He stays looking at the empty tracks
The light that fades from the passing train
And then he walks away murmuring things
Old Matías, ogre of the place
The rain and the wind were two brothers
Running furiously along the embankment
And on a dark, wet, and dirty bench
He adjusted his gray uniform
