María Angeles Lonardi
He was born in Larroque, Province of Entre Ríos, Argentina. She is a Professor of Economic Sciences at the Sedes Sapientiae Teachers' Institute, with an agreement at the Argentine Catholic University. Teacher for Professional Training, Trainer, Corrector, Poet and Writer.
Words for New York
Suffer and languish
the mock dawn in New York.
The city is sad. Gray and cold ...
Huge skyscrapers like columns
of the Parthenon they cement it,
form its skeleton and elevate it
where the clouds soak
ignorance and laziness.
Central Park nailed to its center
like a gigantic green island,
fight to survive between buildings
and people running like crazy,
for not drowning in cement
and absurd stories that nest it.
The feverish traffic crushes her.
His rib is saddened,
it has no caresses, no heat,
no people whistling softly,
just deafening, agitated noise.
No one stops at its margins
and bleeds, alone, in silence ...
When at night, he stretches
and leaves another day never to return,
with big city stories,
with his great grief
impenetrable and hostile,
Orphan of affections, she cries.
Why doesn't anyone ask
where their bowels of town?
How ineffable is the loneliness of the great ...
Please turn off the neon lights
that dazzle me ...
I can't see your eyes anymore
the same ones that implore heaven
a little pity.
You know, I've seen Walt Whitman
near the river, shrouded in mist ...
Look, smile, on the banks of the Hudson.
The other half will listen to you
and you will be the land of opportunities,
the desired big city.
Federico will give you a new moon
to make your life happy.
And when the stars sing in your ear
that jazz - blues that fascinates you
and the south wind tickles you,
the grays will go over the horizon
and you will be a symbol of freedom
facing the sea, always haughty.