He was a magician with the harp. In the plains of Colombia there was no fiesta without him. For a fiesta to be a fiesta, Mese Figueredo had to be there, his dancing fingers brightening up the air and stirring the legs. One night, on some remote track, he was assaulted by thieves. Mese Figueredo was on his way to a wedding on muleback -he on one mule, the harp on another- when the thieves jumped on him and beat him senseless. The following day, someone found him. He was lying in the path, a filthy rag of mud and blood, more dead than alive.
And then the wretch said, with the remnants of a voice: "- They took the mules".
And he said: "- And they took the harp".
And he drew in breath and laughed, dribbling spittle and blood he laughed: "- But they didn't take the music".
And then the wretch said, with the remnants of a voice: "- They took the mules".
And he said: "- And they took the harp".
And he drew in breath and laughed, dribbling spittle and blood he laughed: "- But they didn't take the music".
Eduardo Galeano
2 σχόλια:
Εμ, δεν κλέβονται όλα σε τούτο τον κόσμο. Ευτυχώς δηλαδή.
Ευτυχώς, λες, αν δεις αυτά που δεν κλάπηκαν.
Εγώ δυστυχώς αυτές τις μέρες βλέπω από πρώτο χέρι μόνο αυτά που έχουν από καιρό κλαπεί. Λέξεις όπως: αλληλεγγύη, συλλογικότητα, κοινωνική συνείδηση. Αυτά.
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