gabriel impaglione (en ingles)
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There is no such paradise
by Gabriel Impaglione
How much is the child on the corner by the Bank?
Is he worth this morningÕs deposits in Chase?
Is he worth the alms that on Sunday
the tourists leave between taking photographs?
Is he worth all that was not sold today by the Oil Company?
Is he worth the forty cartridge clips,
the thirty thousand empty scabbards,
the fifty smuggled bayonets?
Is he worth the tithe, the bribe, the special
discount to pay off the installment?
Is he worth a diamond or a burnt cork?
What is the value of this child, Mr. President?
Is he worth a vacancy in the Disunited Nations?
Is he worth the playing card of the Fund?
Is he worth a blockade, a demand, a fist
raising its threat of theatrical props?
And if he were raised as an arriving missile,
is he worth the dignity of his grub?
What is his value with his shirt
torn by vacant lots and misery?
Is he worth a contract for twelve annual goals?
Is he worth an actor on a billboard?
Is he worth the payment of uprooting
or a retirement of privilege?
How much is the child on the corner by the Bank?
Hurry, this is urgent!
Because the carrion prowl
with a bag in their hand.
Copyright 2006 by Gabriel Impaglione. Translated by Ron Hudson and Maria G. Piccini.
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Por lobitogabriel - 14 de Septiembre, 2006, 17:07, Categoría: poesia
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