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City
Suburbs of the city with rotten teeth and starving walls bloated on tatters of posters and scattered rubbish, a dead body among winter flies and the filth: Santiago, head of my country fastened to a great mountain range, to ships of snow, sad legacy of a century of fancy ladies and gentlemen with white goatees, polished walking sticks, silver hats. gloves that shielded against the eagle’s talons. Santiago, inheritance, filthy, bloody, spit on the sidewalks, sorrowful and assassinated we inherit it from the lords and their estate. How shall we wash your face, city, our own heart, wretched daughter, how do we restore your skin, your springtime, your fragrance, how may we live with the living you or kindle your flame, or close your eyes and sweep aside your death until you are breathing again and blossoming and how do we give you new hands and new eyes, human houses, flowers in the light!
Suburbs of the city with decaying buildings and crumbling walls covered with torn posters and scattered trash, a dead body among winter flies and the dirt: Santiago, capital of my country attached to a large mountain range, to snowy peaks, sad history of a century of elegant women and men with white beards, shiny canes, silver hats. gloves that protected from the eagle’s claws. Santiago, inheritance, dirty, bloody, spit on the sidewalks, sad and murdered we inherit it from the rulers and their land. How can we clean your face, city, our own heart, unfortunate daughter, how do we restore your appearance, your springtime, your scent, how can we live with the living you or ignite your spirit, or close your eyes and remove your death until you are alive again and flourishing and how do we give you new hands and new eyes, human homes, flowers in the light!