Circumstances of peasants and working dawn
Slum dweller and miserable marching after prophetic red cloths,
A fact of happy remembrance as each letter of the word happy
And in each sound of the peasant and working happiness
Pronounced like a mantra in nirvana or revelation.

There, in meanders of the brain memory sparkles
And conscience is done
It becomes a brightly shinning ocean sailed by quick white vessels
Sailing in the archipelagos of the love,
Under the surface of the sea,
In the black waters says the Odyssey
Abyss fish take refuge among the waves in shadows
Carrying in their heads their own light,
The life of the Spirit as Paulo's Romans Letter would say.

And spirit once was Memory among others things
Mnemosyné the patron of the Muses,
The one that gave breath to poetry,
The one that if is gone leave us without job
as I would say,
And didn´t leave a lyre's string to sing the rage of Achilles

Let´s consider the importance that Socrates gave to this:
Without memory there is no Idea of Good or Evil

And the wise Greeks invented
A wise word:

Nostalgia
Of nóstos = return
Of álgia = pain

Pain for coming back
Pain for recalling the loss
As Ulysses in the Island of Kirke
Pain for Itaka
Pain for Penélope and Telémaco
Pain for its people of peaceful shepherds.

The Greeks understood that knowing
Is to recover the loss from the void
Assume the irretrievable sorrow
Of what has been crushed by history
As Walter Benjamín said lately.

Then without that good nostalgia
Nobody can be saved
says

Me The Poet,

But Sulky Rick does not want nostalgia
(It is in the news)
Rickie has opted for amnesia
He has decided for a future with no memory
Lobotomize the future
Treat it with insulinic shocks
Erase some 40 years of memory to the country
Says Otto Dörr
The psyquiatrist

And by the way erase every First of May
With democratik Central Única de Trabajadores

Erase images of happy peasants and workers marching
The poor of the countryside and city
Chasing their dawn of red cloths
To enter full of dignity the cities of Chile

Kakós
Kakós estín
Ugly
It is ugly

Would have shouted the athenians in the ágora
The day of votation

It is ugly the Greeks would have
It is ugly
"You are too ugly"
They would have shouted

I think
That I remember correctly

Ugly was the same than evil

Evil for the noble
Evil for the philosophers
Evil for the poets
Evil for the merchants

It is Horrible that an ugly man presides the government
And to conduct the troops of the Hélade
Or to direct in starry nights tragic contests
Or to sit in the highest chair in the Olympiads

Nobody would have voted for Rickie
Ugly hypocritical coward fat

Kakós
Kakós estín

They would have shouted at him in the street

Children
Women

Slaves and foreigners

This are postmodern men
Without nostalgia
"Hollow men" said Eliot

Hollow men that fear the sorrow of memory.

But there is nostalgia in the multitude
As a crowd of abyss fish
carrying in their own heads the Spirit that guides them towards love

I see the face of the president in gigantic screen in Wall Street
Not to announce the nationalization of Chile
But to negotiate the memory of his people
The face of Rickie in gigantic screen in Wall Street
Asking George Soros:

"Give me permission boss to be president in Chile"
"Recommend me boss with the State Department"

And Soros:
"Don't worry here we take care of you go back in calm,
Greetings for your wife ..."

But me
The Poet
Can say only one thing:

Allende was not ugly
Because Allende was good

And the people should feel nostalgia
So that they won't lose their future

Red nostalgia of red cloths
Of the reddest red
Green and red
Black and red
Red and red

In illo tempore dawn had pink fingers
Rododactilós said the Greeks
Nostalgic dawn
Iridescent dawn from another future

And I The Poet am able to say
Nostalgic remembrance of those dawns
Shinning dawns
Rains of photons in my face
Packages of photons and waves
At 6.00 AM

Humidity in the ground pressed by frost
Fragrance of frosty and white land
Grass awaking from its dream
As stretching its sprouts
As wanting to embrace the dawn
Rododactilós

Nostalgic memory of first green grapes
Tiny
And transparent
A tiny sun in each bud
A drop of water in each one
Each one a promise of the sweetest summer,

In the grape vine the fog is flying towards the sky
It spoked to me in my ear
And told me:
This day is yours
Only yours.

The land is heating up little by little
Barking dogs
Red rose bushes

And future
And future
And future

A crowd who owns its future
First of May of 1973
March of university students
Towards the Plaza de Concepcion

For when you are 17 there is only future
Past is too new
And future newer still

And when nostalgia is future
Nostalgia is good

Kalos kai agathós

Beautiful and good

And it is beautiful and good to recall the shanty town Ho Chi Minh

Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh Will Fight until the end

And is good and beautiful to recall nostalgically
The Nationalization of the Chilean Copper
The rural settlements
Of Trongol
Of San Fernando
Of Laja

Beautiful and good to recall the organized crowd

"This government might be shit
But it is my government"

Said the placard of a worker
That 1st of May of 1973

Beautiful and good

Kalós kai agathos

Thus the crowd will return
again and again.

Waves in the beaches of the Pacific Ocean.

Brujo Huichol
August, 2003-08-28