Indignant poem. |
Make way to those are coming, Heralds of the Future and Hope! May not even one barrier skews their march through the streets and paths that asleep lie. Look at them raise up from deepest abysses where the memory gave the last howl before falling hacked off for ever. Look at them bring the fire burning in the blaze of that life we thought was dead. Don't you see their eyes opened over a land stepmother of blind and one-eyed people? Don't you see their hands opened there where some fists had crushed our chest? Don't you hear their hearts breathing a passionate gust into the cold night where we had sunk far away from the wait and the remembrance? Make way to those are coming, Heralds of the Future and Hope! May not even be left one stone on another to resist under their shouts and sings. Run to the streets from the youngest to the oldest, let them pass in front of every door, beneath every roof. Because the dawn chorus time is coming behind them, disheveled and delayed to the appointment of those who already walk to the sun without any license nor restraining. Alas to those who want to build them up chains! Alas to those who want to break their bones! Because the spilled blood, like a river throwing over a cliff from the arcs of the heaven itself, will howl: "JUSTICE!, DIGNITY!, PEOPLE!". Make way to those are coming, Heralds of the Future and Hope! |