Rating: PG
Language: English.
State: finished. It autoconclusivos.
Copyright: The copyright in this work are mine, while the publishing rights, for the moment, the pose of the Cuatro Vientos Editorial. Cruelty was published in Southern Territory 2005, an anthology of writers from the region of Buenos Aires II , p. 113 to be exact.
Thanks: to all who support me the idea to publish my articles on the Internet.
Author Notes: This is a very old text, August 2003, actually. Now write different, and so I do not liketo as I have been ... but, at bottom, is still a little pride, how it was received at the time, and why I wanted to share it with you. It will be a pleasure for me to hear their views. Inspiration
: soil casually, perhaps excessive, the context in which things arise. So, I tell them. In a literary workshop slogan gave me to hear a song I liked a lot and write down anything that came out ... The song I chose is a poem by Miguel Hernández, El Niño Yuntero, sung by Joan Manuel Serrat. I assure you that is a thousand times better, or more, that what I wrote, so, if you're interested but do not get it, I shall give you they are.
Now ... avail.
CH TMLXC
How cruel, God, what evil is this child!
How brazenly shows her tanned skin, as if, just anger, had wedged against the sun one day especially indifferent to their existence, do you stares and lets you understand it, the eyes tell me: is not Live! Unfortunately, even strives to keep your muscles twitch children in these grotesque manifestations of reality, to avoid that we realize that not only to avoid dying cries dehydrated. Be seen with such cruelty, declaring with his life struck him dead born, bringing the tool in the hands like a guillotine on the soul, Mira H owSilence screams or cynically, how we claim without saying a word! Bring head up only to contrast it with the hopes that creeps along the rough ground, limándolas at every step. Unhappy, how dare go anywhere naked-naked pain, anxiety, lack of self, what did not learn good manners? Did not know that bothers you, from time to time, forget all ignored as ignorant? Do not you know that if he carries the weight of the plow in the neck, you should take as it takes the earth to humanity, leaving tread, nail, sink, remove, sell, spit? Child idiot who thinks he is there, do not understand yet that is alien to life, there's a better world, but as they say, is more expensive? Oh, my child, my starving children, howsuffers under the yoke of the truth, how to give in to the pattern, before the shoe sole trampling his ideas-if they dare to take them some time. Oh, this thorn that sticks so hard in one, alas, this need to die to have, it is unfair to be hurting me too.
How cruel, God, what evil is this child! Therefore boldly breaks the frosted glass of good men and they nailed the truth in her eyes, letting them bleed and let him be born.
But these thoughts are absurd and vain. Bored reflect on the obvious. Callo my mind tired. I take my tool with both hands, side by side with cruelty, I am working.
~ owari ~
Chan chan. Since I'm a little rant about me ... nevertheless, holidays and whatever they want, time flies. It shows in that I could publish almost anything ... Little by little I could organize everything. However, there are priorities: first do everything I need to do to die in peace, seeing the people I love, hug a lot, write key words to people who are important in my heart. Then the rest. On 20 I will travel and least of all I see around here. However, it will be an opportunity to write, if the Muses with me. Hope for the best.
inmensísimo A hug.
L ila N EGRA
August 2003
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