this is actually a poem written by a long lost friend...her name is fiorella...we sent each other letters more than a decade ago but lost touch since then...in one of her letters she shared to me one of the poems she personally composed and translated in English for me to understand...girl,wherever you are today....allow me to publish your game of words...
RED LIKE THE BLOOD
Some pictures which flash, all incoherent
Like in the nightmare of a restless night
Life doesn't dress in pink, neither in black moreover
But it dresses up death in red.
There, a child protects himself behind the shadow of his rifle;
Playing: he doesn't know its significance
They only taught him violence as a vim of human dignity
In his memory wipe the shoutings
The uproar of the guns and the explosions
Already, he doesn't look anymore at hundred bones buried behind him
A red headband fastened around his head, he walks;
But his life is the war and as the war is death
In advance he is irreconcilably convicted
Somewhere he is already dead
Because childhood has been killed.
Where must we look for the frontier between peace and the horror
When hatred sinks in the heart's blindness?
And everything topples over at each second under the legs' collapses:
In the race, something blocks without knowing why
And suddenly the back howls of blood, the face distorts,
The eyes want to say, but it's too late..
Find the mistake!
Like in the nightmare of a restless night
Life doesn't dress in pink, neither in black moreover
But it dresses up death in red.
There, a child protects himself behind the shadow of his rifle;
Playing: he doesn't know its significance
They only taught him violence as a vim of human dignity
In his memory wipe the shoutings
The uproar of the guns and the explosions
Already, he doesn't look anymore at hundred bones buried behind him
A red headband fastened around his head, he walks;
But his life is the war and as the war is death
In advance he is irreconcilably convicted
Somewhere he is already dead
Because childhood has been killed.
Where must we look for the frontier between peace and the horror
When hatred sinks in the heart's blindness?
And everything topples over at each second under the legs' collapses:
In the race, something blocks without knowing why
And suddenly the back howls of blood, the face distorts,
The eyes want to say, but it's too late..
Find the mistake!
Fio, in case you find me and you read this...i have never forgotten you girl...even though the letters ceased to come, and we've moved on to the next step,you're always here in my heart...and i promise i will find you!
meg havana
11 feb 06
N.B. the good news is, i have found Fiorella again..after i published this poem in another site i also wrote her a letter using her old address just hoping she is still living in that same place and i snail mailed it...a month after that...i got an email from her..and that really made me happy!
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