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”

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