August 2013

Fotos y recuerdos

Como quisiera estar allá
Cuando me la pintaban bonito
When all everyone saw was a hero
When home was the one thing that nothing else could equal
And opportunities weren’t required because I carried all I needed
Fotos y recuerdos, memories of the past
But in this life of frost, nothing gold can last
And leaves subside in clusters
The oak stands tall but hollowed, only the roots sustain
From all our fight what have we left to gain
Inside dead, but with a straight face, we muster
Assembling pieces of happiness only held together by faith
No longer living blind burns the eyes
So we shall leave this to the Fates
Spinning and spinning but they cannot cut what has no measure
“Y estoy aquí, borracho y loco”
Sí, estoy aquí, being torn to pieces, poco a poco
Because for all these years that I marched forward
All I had to look at was that “foto”
Sana, sana
Tomo de aguas santas en donde su beso era mi suero
Y fuerte la llama que encendió
Pero por esa misma lumbre, el encino ya ha muerto
And what is left is dried and charred
And all that sprouts are broken recuerdos
De un soldado extranjero

—Javier Tovías

3 thoughts on “August 2013

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