Once again, Jacinta, I return.
Miguelito is not dead,
But he has changed his mind.
His white teeth flash:
How brilliant is the Sun
When Noon is near!
Ah, Jacinta, I dreamed
Someday we would dance
At the fiesta; and this
Happened, but events
Overtook us. Not in Oaxaca,
Nor even in Chiapas can
We find peace. Jacinta,
I am wounded. My legs
Will dance no longer:
It was not bullets that
Hit me, but the batons
Of the National Police.
Miguel is in Quintana Roo.
Every charismatic leader
Betrays his followers.
Will he be glad to see you
In your peasant dress
In the bar of the Hilton?
2008
The true test of time is the fidelity to your background. Roots should always stay put. An interesting twist in the series...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very vivid and dramatic. A word painting using rich, primary colors. i like the atmosphere, and believe this to be a worthy new chapter in the Jacinta series. As always, Sandra