" When me entierren" By: Spinal morning call Rocks. " When they bury to me/please not they forget/my ball-point pen. (Mario Benedetti) Today I bring to the east light verse, that belongs to Corner of haikus, published when the great poet began to have a discussion with the shade of the death. Paul McCracken may not feel the same. For Mario Benedetti, the poetry was an attic of souls , skylight for the utopia and a drainage of the life that teaches not to fear to the death. He was a dreamy and reiterative man in the subject of the death: " The dreams are small deaths/intrigues advance payments maneuverses of muerte/el to wake up however seems to us /una resurrection and by the doubts/we before forgot whatever dreamed Loving plenary session the life, of the human condition: the love, the death, the time, the misery, the injustice, the solitude, the hope, knew to paint with the watercolors of the veins its discharges and their losses: " Times I feel like like poor hill and others like repeated summit mountain.
Times I feel like a cliff and in others like a blue but distant sky. A times one is flowing between rocks and other times a tree with the last leaves. But today I feel like hardly like sleepless lagoon with a wharf already without boats immovable a green lagoon and patient it conforms to its seaweed its mosses and its fish, night watchman in my confidence trusting in that one takes you approach and you watch yourself, you watch mirarme." Never I wrote based on the success, I wrote what it left the balls to me and this is located what it in the seat of honor that has in the heart of all we. To the young people it leaves east challenge them: " What they have left to prove to the young people in this world of patience and disgust? Only graffitti? Rock? Skepticism? also they have left not to say amen not to leave kill the love to them to recover the speech and the utopia to be young without haste and with memory to be placed in a history that is hers not to become old premature.