Cesár Vallejo Will Never See Winter Again (Paris in Two Voices)
by David Cruz
FIRST ACT:
Old Vallejo:
This city doesn’t know my name. I look at her and know it looks at me. Everyone walks nameless.
The buildings still remember the years of the black death.
Do I exist or am I a failed dream by Eiffel?
Young Vallejo:
I listen to the voices of my ancestors, some sound like my own,
others make me realize that every word I say was thrown away by hundreds, perhaps, thousands.
Everything is born from an internal emptiness that lets me be free like one:
man and artist
SECOND ACT:
Old Vallejo:
I don’t know how many times I’ve died. This body is failing me: mycough is dry,
the words are escaping me. Maria Rosa went into the jungle. My homeland was lost forever.
I try to write my memories. I suffer from exhaustion, I fight, I take the bait to tempt the words.
Everything is futile.
Young Vallejo:
It’s useless to write the same thing over and over,
I don’t know anymore when I give life and when I’m mutilating.
THIRD ACT:
Old Vallejo:
Am I alive? Did they save me at the charity hospital or is this the outcome of faith?
Am I in a nightmare? The news is announcing the Second Great War of this century.
I’m sure I won’t see it. My body is shutting down and soon the undertaker will bring me candy.
Young Vallejo:
Yesterday I walked around an unknown city. I got to a grave. I felt ghosts that forgot their names:
refugees, migrants and gypsies. I walked to a stone that said:
J'ai tant neigé pour que tu dormes
-I’ve snowed so much so you can sleep-
View the PDF version of “Cesár Vallejo Will Never See Winter Again”