Vicisitudes del pobre
A duras penas pudo nacer,
su madre oía esas voces invitándola a quedarse,
ella decidió irse.
A él solo le dijeron que ella estaba esperándolo en un lugar bonito,
Creció bajo la caridad de los vecinos,
hizo la escuela con los zapatos rotos
y oía esas voces,
siempre las oía: vendrán tiempos mejores.
Navegó entre múltiples oficios,
estuvo solo y así lo prefirió,
se bautizó en diferentes templos
y en todos, esos susurros seguían sus pasos.
Aunque se doblase la espalda y el sol hiciera fiesta en su carne,
los sueños le pesaban,
la alegría venía ebria y lo abrazaba,
le hacía creer que él no se enfermaba,
son pruebas de la vida,
designios divinos,
todos estamos endeudados con el pecado.
Tu madre debe estar orgullosa,
has podido levantarte solo.
Ya saldrás de esta, eres un muchacho bueno.
Yo los veía a todos esperando, solo esperando,
soñaban con ese lugar donde no faltaría nada.
Ahora oigo esas voces,
esos susurros prometiendo el paraíso,
ese lugar, donde a lo mejor no tendré nada,
pero seré feliz.
The vicissitudes of the poor
With difficulty, he was able to be born,
Her mother heard these voices inviting her to stay,
she decided to leave.
He was only told that she was waiting for him in a nice place,
He grew up under the charity of the neighbours,
He went to school with broken shoes
and he heard those voices,
He always heard them: better times will come.
He navigated between multiple trades,
He was alone and preferred it that way,
He was baptized in different temples
And in all of them, those whispers followed his steps.
Though his back was bent and the sun made a feast in his flesh,
dreams weighed him down,
joy came drunkenly and embraced him,
It made him believe that he didn't get sick,
These are the trials of life,
Divine designations,
we are all indebted to sin.
Your mother must be proud,
You've been able to stand up for yourself.
You'll get through this, you're a good boy.
I saw them all waiting, just waiting,
They were dreaming of that place where nothing would be lacking.
Now I hear those voices,
those whispers promising paradise,
that place, where maybe I'll have nothing,
but I'll be happy.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
Ilustraciones realizadas con el Generador de imágenes de Bing
con tecnología de DALL·E 3 de Microsoft.
Illustrations made with Bing's Image Generator
with Microsotf's DALL-E 3 technology.
Images edited with PhotoScape
https://inleo.io/@silher/vicisitudes-del-pobre-poema
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A poem of eloquent verbal images and accomplished rhythm about the condition of the poor individual, which expresses very well the ideological traps regarding such condition. Greetings, @silher.
Thanks for the comment and I think the term traps is appropriate, because it also defines what I am trying to say with the word hope, whose ideological use has served to feed false expectations in human beings. Greetings.
In a terrible world filled with trials, we can only allow those whispers of hope keep us moving.
A great poem of hope and faith
Thank you very much for your comment @dwixer, it is not exactly what I intend to say in the poem, but I respect your interpretation. Greetings my friend.
Smile
Sometimes poems are difficult to interpret. Best regards