Silvio Rodriguez
Miscellaneous
Kingdom of Still
It comes rotating a planetary angle,
hitting the walls of infinity,
shelling the mother-of-pearl of the inventory,
violating the backwater of what is prescribed.
Certain high pressures come spinning,
in the clouds swirling,
mischief of time misplacing:
precedents of cyclones come.
Obscene, moralizing old men cry,
souls crucified in the fifties,
with their tongues immersed in longing
salive to the sex of the nineties.
Sleeping, well-wrapped children cry
in the eternal illusion of becoming better,
but no one is saved from forced footing:
you have to grow up dancing with disappointments.
Rafters, Christmas, absolutism,
baptisms , wills, hatred and tenderness.
No one knows what communism is
and that can be fodder for censorship.
No one knows what communism is
and that It can be fodder for fortune.
Among all that is sad and lost
the little stars come spinning closer.
No one sees them moving above the noise
of the legal stores and the outlawed ones.
The invisible system will have its price,
its border and size, its analogy.
Some call it God, others Commerce,
but for me it is the Kingdom of Still.
Rafters, Christmas, absolutism,
baptisms, wills, hatred and tenderness.
No one knows what communism is
and that can be fodder for censorship .
No one knows what communism is
and that can be fodder for fortune.

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