La cara del amor
Tu cara es la cara de los otros
antes de ti y después de ti y
tus ojos serenos como un amanecer
triste tiempo sobre tiempo
pastor de nubes
centinela de blanca belleza tornasol
el paisaje de tu boca
que he explorado
guarda el secreto de una sonrisa
como pequeños pueblos detrás de
las montañas
y los latidos de tu corazón son la medida de
su éxtasis
No es cuestión de principio
no es cuestión de posesión
no es cuestión de muerte
la cara de mi amado
la cara del amor
***
El niño no está muerto
El
niño no está muerto
El
niño levanta el puño contra su madre
Que
grita ¡África! grita aires
De
libertad y de meseta
En
los emplazamientos del corazón acordonado
El
niño levanta el puño contra su padre
en la marcha de las generaciones
que gritan ¡África! gritan aires
de justicia y de sangre
en las calles de orgullo acorralado
El niño no está muerto ni en Langa ni en Nyanga
ni en Orlando ni en Sharpeville
ni en la comisaría de Philippi
donde yace con una bala en la cabeza
El niño es la sombra oscura de los soldados
en guardia con sus fusiles y sus porras
el niño está presente en todas las asambleas y
legislaturas
el niño espía por las ventanas de las casas y en el
corazón de las madres
este niño que solo quería jugar bajo el sol de
Nyanga está en todas partes
el niño convertido en hombre atraviesa toda África
el niño convertido en gigante atraviesa el mundo
entero
Sin un pase
Ingrid
Jonker, Northen Cape, 1933- Cape Town, 1965
Versión
© Silvia Camerotto
The
Face of Love
Your
face is the face of all the others
before you and after you and
your eyes calm as a blue
dawn breaking time on time
herdsman of the clouds
sentinel of white iridescent beauty
the landscape of your mouth
that I have explored
keeps the secret of a smile
like small white villages beyond the
mountains
and your heartbeats the measure of
their ecstasy
There is no question of beginning
there is no question of possession
there is no question of death
face of my beloved
the face of love
before you and after you and
your eyes calm as a blue
dawn breaking time on time
herdsman of the clouds
sentinel of white iridescent beauty
the landscape of your mouth
that I have explored
keeps the secret of a smile
like small white villages beyond the
mountains
and your heartbeats the measure of
their ecstasy
There is no question of beginning
there is no question of possession
there is no question of death
face of my beloved
the face of love
The
child is not dead
The child is not dead
The child lifts his fists against his mother
Who shouts Afrika! Shouts the breath
Of freedom and the veld
In the locations of the cordoned heart
The child lifts his fists against his father
in the march of the generations
who shouts Afrika ! Shout the breath
of righteousness and blood
in the streets of his embattled pride
The child is not dead not at Langa nor at Nyanga
not at Orlando nor at Sharpeville
nor at the police station at Philippi
where he lies with a bullet through his brain
The child is the dark shadow of the soldiers
on guard with rifles Saracens and batons
the child is present at all assemblies and law-givings
the child peers through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers
this child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere
the child grown to a man treks through all Africa
the child grown into a giant journeys through the whole world
Without a pass
The child lifts his fists against his mother
Who shouts Afrika! Shouts the breath
Of freedom and the veld
In the locations of the cordoned heart
The child lifts his fists against his father
in the march of the generations
who shouts Afrika ! Shout the breath
of righteousness and blood
in the streets of his embattled pride
The child is not dead not at Langa nor at Nyanga
not at Orlando nor at Sharpeville
nor at the police station at Philippi
where he lies with a bullet through his brain
The child is the dark shadow of the soldiers
on guard with rifles Saracens and batons
the child is present at all assemblies and law-givings
the child peers through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers
this child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere
the child grown to a man treks through all Africa
the child grown into a giant journeys through the whole world
Without a pass
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