gate
a non-traditional archival project
(to proceed to the website PRESS THIS LINK or the one at the bottom)
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Why we Emigrate. Dagoberto Reyes, 1993
Poema de amor / Love Poem
by Roque Dalton
Los que ampliaron el Canal de Panamá
(y fueron clasificados como "silver roll"
y no como "gold roll"),
los que repararon la flota del Pacífico
en las bases de California,
los que se pudrieron en la cárceles de Guatemala,
México, Honduras, Nicaragua,
por ladrones, por contrabandistas, por estafadores
por hambrientos,
los siempre sospechosos de todo
("me permito remitirle al interfecto
por esquinero sospechoso
y con el agravante de ser salvadoreño"),
las que llenaron los bares y los burdeles
de todos los puertos y las capitales de la zona
("La gruta azul", "El Calzoncito", "Happyland"),
los sembradores de maíz en plena selva extranjera,
los reyes de la página roja,
los que nunca sabe nadie de dónde son,
los mejores artesanos del mundo,
los que fueron cosidos a balazos
al cruzar la frontera,
los que murieron de paludismo
o de las picadas del escorpión o de la barba amarilla
en el infierno de las bananeras,
los que lloraran borrachos por el himno nacional
bajo el ciclón del Pacífico o la nieve del norte,
los arrimados, los mendigos, los marihuaneros,
los guanacos hijos de la gran puta,
los que apenitas pudieron regresar,
los que tuvieron un poco más de suerte,
los eternos indocumentados,
los hacelotodo, los vendelotodo, los comelotodo,
los primeros en sacar el cuchillo,
los tristes más tristes del mundo,
mis compatriotas,
mis hermanos.
Those who expanded the Panama Canal
(and were classified as "silver roll"
and not as "gold roll"),
those who repaired the Pacific Fleet
in the California bases,
those who rotted in the jails of Guatemala
Mexico, Honduras, Nicaragua
as thieves, as smugglers, as scammers,
as starved,
the always suspects of everything
("I'm taking the liberty to transfer the present remains:
a suspicious tramp,
with the aggravating circumstance of being Salvadoran"),
the women who worked at the bars and brothels
of all the ports and capital cities of the area
("La Gruta Azul," "El Calzoncito," "Happyland"),
the corn sowers in the middle of a foreign jungle
the kings of the crime tabloids,
those who nobody knows where they are from,
the best artisans of the world,
those who were riddled with bullets
when crossing the border,
those who died of malaria,
or of scorpion stings, or lancehead bites
in the inferno of the banana plantations,
those who would cry, drunk, listening to the national anthem
under the Pacific cyclone or the northern snow,
the homeless, the beggars, the potheads,
the guanacos sons of a great bitch,
those who barely made it back home
those who were a little luckier
the eternal illegals,
the Jacks of all trades, the peddlers, the ones who eat anything
the first ones to pull out the knife,
the most sad among the sad of the world
my compatriots
my brothers.
>>> ENTER WEBSITE HERE <<<
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memories of the salvadoran diaspora: a non traditional archival project
originally created as a course project for hist 8025 at the university of minnesota twin cities
edited by pedro f. quijada