Pasionarias
Jose Maria Vargas Vila
XVIII
HOW much
I've cried! My beloved mother
lifted the
tent from the pilgrim
And left me
in the middle of my road,
Now she is,
dust and no more, she already is ... nothing.
Why lie to
the troubled soul
That looks
from beyond the grave, divine dawn?
Let us look
at our destiny with courage,
"Death
is the end of the day ..."
BEYOND the
grave nothing is true,
And faith in
vain will forge visions
Trying to bring
light to this desert.
And in vain religions will shout,
If they haven’t
been able to raise one dead
From the dust of
one hundred thousand generations.
