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Actas : Poesía Noviembre 24, 2020

The Young Ones
Jorge Etcheverry

Enviar por Correo-E
 Versión Impresora 
And the flower of the race let fall this generation like many clear petals on the dark earth and the old ones grew hopeful, living their last days, seeing with pleasure and without words the movements of these new youngsters who trained themselves in living

"The Chains that oppress us will in time be broken by our sons or grandsons, stronger than we. The winds coming from East and from West will fecundate their actions and thoughts, like other common winds that all day swell the sails of the boats"

But the blood covered the cobblestones like a kind of moss, like this parasite of the elm tree, when the most audacious and beautiful of this new flock got ready to start up vertically, like quail

And hope like a flower of paper burned on the chests and extinguished below the closed lips of those who were starting to look at things with new eyes.

Some of our best offspring had the luck to die very young

This had made us more careful with the rest. The marshes that surround the city are a breeding ground for decease

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