¿Me vas a decir
que no puedes?
¿A mí?
Que recién vi
como un ser marchito
emergió
en donde no
debía estar.
Mira Una capa de cemento, Lo irónico es que Es hermoso ver No me digas que viendo eso No repitas que no puedes, ¿Hasta dónde vas a llegar? No me digas que no puedes Mira qué espectáculo Allí está el girasol Will you tell me Look A concrete layer, The irony is that It is beautiful to see Do not tell me that seeing that Repeat no more that you can't, ¿So far are you going to go? You can't tell me that you can't Watch what a spectacle There is the sunflower
fuente
a ese suelo
donde yaces abatido,
en donde caíste
de golpe y te dolió
por lo resistente
de la superficie.
una capa de asfalto
y arriba estas tú,
tú que
no lo rompiste,
ni lo quebraste,
pero que sí estás roto
y por el piso.
yo he visto delicadas
flores hermosas
impidiendo ser aplastadas
por el macizo concreto,
he visto montes y raíces
imponiéndose al pavimento,
logrando con paciencia
e insistencia aquello
que parecía imposible.
como una minúscula flor
es la insospechada intrusa
de una superficie
donde no la querían,
donde la masacraron,
donde la invadieron
y de alguna forma
sus pétalos
volvieron a recuperar
la fierra naturaleza.
no se te eriza la esperanza,
no te dan ganas de emerger
y demostrar que eres
magma que se opone
y no detiene
su forma final.
no lo menciones más,
porque tú eres menos frágil,
eres más resistente y pensante
para prevalecer sin tener
tanto adoquinado encima,
tu estás en el fondo
pero sobre ese fondo
en tu terreno
y lo que te oprime
no es el suelo,
sino el techo
que te han puesto.
Hay lugares
que no nos pertenecen,
hay sitios
donde desafortunadamente caemos,
pero para los podios
debemos competir
contra los oponentes.
si ahora mismo hay flores
rompiendo el piso
donde tu yaces
detenido.
cómo el girasol
siendo tan frágil
fracturó la corteza
que alguien le puso
cómo fulminante límite
para que no creciera.
volviéndose a plantar
a sí mismo,
aunque nadie
esperaba que
pudiera.
PRESS HERE FOR ENGLISH VERSION
that you can't?
To me?
Who I just saw
how a withered being
emerged
where it was not
it should not be.
fuente
to that ground
where you lie dejected,
where you fell
down with a thud and it pained you
because of the toughness
of the surface.
a layer of asphalt
and on top there's you,
you who
didn't break it,
neither did you shatter it,
but you are broken
and on the floor.
I have seen delicate
beautiful flowers
preventing them from being crushed
by the concrete massif,
I have seen mountains and roots
imposing themselves on the pavement,
achieving with patience
e and insistence that which
seemed impossible.
how a tiny flower
is the unsuspected intruder
of a surface
where it was not welcome,
where it was massacred,
where it was invaded
and somehow
her petals
came back to recover
restored to nature.
doesn't make you bristle with hope,
it does not make you want to emerge
y and show that you are
the magma that opposes
y and does not stop
your final form.
do not mention it anymore,
because you are less fragile,
you are more resilient and thoughtful
to prevail without having
so many paving stones on top of you,
you are at the bottom
but on that bottom
on your terrain
y and what oppresses you
is not the floor,
it is the ceiling
that you have been put.
There are places
that don't belong to us,
certain sites
where unfortunately we fall,
but for the podiums
we must compete
against opponents.
if right now there are flowers
breaking the ground
where you remain
detained.
how the sunflower
being so fragile
fractured the bark
that someone put on it
as a withering limit
to prevent it from growing.
once again planting
to itself,
even though no one
expected to be
able to
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