egillis@manager
Wed, 07/05/2023 - 14:31
Edited Text
english version;

Rise to birth with me, my brother.

Rise to birth with me, my brother.

Give me your hand from the depths

of your spread pain.

You won't come back, from the depths of the rocks.
You won't come back, from subterranean time.
It won't come back, your enraged voice.
They won't come back, your drilled eyes.
Rise to birth with me, my brother.

Look at me from the depths of earth,
cottager, waver, silent pastor.

tamer of totemic guanacos,

mason of the daring platform,

water boy of the Andes' tears,

jeweler of the smashed fingers,

farmer trembling in the seed,

potter wasted in your clay.

Bring to the cup of this new life

your old buried pains.

Rise to birth with me, my brother.

Show me your blood and your furrow.

Tell me "Here | was punished..."

Because the jewel didn't shine ‘
or the earth didn't deliver in time the stone or the grain.
Show me the rock where you fell

and the wood where you were crucified.
Light the old flints, 2

the old lamps, the whips stuck

through centuries in the wounds

and the axes of bloody shine.

| came to speak through your dead mouth.
Tell me everything, chain by chain,

link by link, step %y step.

Sharpen the knives that you kept.

Put them in my chest and my hand

like a river of yellow rays,

like a river of buried tigers

and leave me to cry

hours, days, years,

blind ages, stelar centuries.