Sunday, 27 January 2013

A Jackson. Porque le dije: has sido malo
y él contestó: no.


Hey chico, estás sucio.
Mira tus uñas, chico, enfermarás.
Bacterías, ¿sabes lo que son chico?
Se cobijarán en tu boca,
celebrarán, te desdibujarán.
Lávate las manos,
haz sólida la higiene.
Protégete, chico.

Dijimos libertad.
Te conté la libertad.
Mira, he venido en avión, chico,
y te traje unos zapatos.
Déjame enseñarte a usar los cubiertos,
con mis manos blancas de predicador.
Sé limpio para ser libre.
Los zapatos te harán libre.
La cuchara te hará libre.

La sangre demuestra el instinto
y el instinto la sangre.
No luches, chico, no seas violento.
Mata el instinto. Olvida el instinto.
La libertad consiste en poder aburrirse.
Ven acá, chico, aburrámonos juntos
hasta que no nos quede más que pelear
porque ensuciaste los zapatos
o rompiste el uniforme.
Has sido malo. Has sido malo.

Fuiste malo y te fugaste.
En el norte todos pensaron
que habías fracasado, chico.
Dijeron: No quiso ser libre.
Dijeron: No fue agradecido.
Salvaje.
Salvaje.

Pero yo sonreí, chico,
te imaginé allá en los campos, ardiendo,
sediento, descalzo y libre.
Libre para morir de hambre,
bello para esquilmar la muerte.
Reparando la libertad que te quité
cuando maté las bacterias
y te despojé de la tierra.

La libertad no es amable, ni es sencilla.
La libertad es salvaje y es huída.
La carne libre, llena de llagas,
la muerte temprana al atardecer,
tu cuerpo olvidado,
tu cuerpo que se hace rama,
tu carne que se vuelve aliento
Así, libremente, sin aviones.
Sin calzado.
 ---------------------------------------------------------

To Jackson. Because I told him: you have been bad,
and he replied: no.

Hey kid, you're dirty.
Look at your nails, kid, you'll get sick.
Bacteria. Do you know what they are, kid?
They will take shelter in your mouth,
they will celebrate, they will undraw you.
Wash your hands,
make your hygiene solid
Protect yourself, kid.

We said freedom.
I told you freedom.
Look, I've come in a plane, kid,
and I brought you some shoes.
Let me show you how to use silverware,
with my white preacher hands.
Be clean to be free.
Shoes will make you free.
Spoons will make you free.

Blood shows instinct,
and instinct blood.
Don't fight, kid, don't be violent.
Kill instinct. Forget instinct.
Freedom consists of being able to get bored.
Come here, kid, we'll get bored together
until we have nothing else to fight about
than because you got your shoes dirty
or you tore your uniform.
You've been bad. You've been bad.

You were bad and ran away.
In the North everyone thought
that you had failed, kid.
They said: he did not want to be free.
They said, he was not grateful.
Wild.
Wild.

But I smiled, kid,
I imagined you out in the field, burning,
thirsty, barefoot and free.
Free to starve,
beautiful to swindle death.
Repairing the liberty that I took from you
when I killed the bacteria
and I stripped you of the land.

Freedom is not friendly, nor is it easy.
Freedom is wild and is fleeing.
The flesh free, full of sores,
early death at sunset,
your body forgotten,
your body that becomes a branch,
your flesh that becomes breath
Thus, freely, without planes.
Without shoes.

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