A mí me gustaría, correr detrás de mis metas.
A mí me gustaría, vivir sin miedos, ni odios.
A mí me gustaría, gritar al infinito un te amo.
A mí me gustaría, desnudar mi alma ante el universo.
A mí me gustaría, ver todos los días el amanecer.
A mí me gustaría, vivir con mi rostro frente al sol.
A mí me gustaría, tener la humildad de un mendigo.
A mí me gustaría, escribir mis palabras del alma.
A mí me gustaría, sentir el olor de una rosa.
A mí me gustaría, ser padre y amar sin condiciones.
I would like to run after my goals.
I would like to live without fear or hatred.
I would like to shout to infinity an I love you.
I would like to bare my soul to the universe.
I would like to see the sunrise every day.
I would like to live with my face to the sun.
I would like to have the humility of a beggar.
I would like to write the words of my soul.
I would like to feel the smell of a rose.
I would like to be a father and love unconditionally.
Yo simplemente quiero ser libre de los tabúes de una sociedad mediocre y vana, que te mide por el dinero.
Así gritaba Pedro, luego de que nadie lo entendiera, era tan difícil para él, acoplar en una sistema estéril, lleno de vanidad y consumismo, dónde simplemente eres una marioneta controlada por el dinero.
Estaba allí, como todos los días, sentado junto a su padre en una bodega mísera y sucia, viviendo en la cobardía del desesperado, soñando en ser libre del estigma de la vanidad, soportando la burla de los chicos encajados en una vida llena de lujos, pero vacía de amor y humildad.
Con su cara sudorosa y su ropa maloliente del humo de cocina a leña, nadie lo entendía, todos se preguntaban, el porqué sus sueños eran diferentes, todos querían ropa nueva, el solo quería pinceles y lienzo, para plasmar a través del arte sus pensamientos.
Y así fue su vida diciendo, aquel "a mi me gustaría" fue así su andar, sin pena ni gloria, soñando sin sueños, amando sin ser amado.
I simply want to be free from the taboos of a mediocre and vain society, which measures you by money.
It was so difficult for him to fit into a sterile system, full of vanity and consumerism, where you are simply a puppet controlled by money.
He was there, like every day, sitting next to his father in a squalid and dirty cellar, living in the cowardice of the desperate, dreaming of being free from the stigma of vanity, enduring the mockery of the boys who were wedded to a life full of luxury, but empty of love and humility.
With his sweaty face and smelly clothes from the smoke of the wood cooker, no one understood him, everyone wondered why his dreams were different, everyone wanted new clothes, he just wanted brushes and canvas, to capture his thoughts through art.
And that's how his life went, saying "I'd like to", that's how he walked, without pain or glory, dreaming without dreams, loving without being loved.
Sus ilusiones eran simples, sus sueños eran fuera de foco, su alegria era altruista, sus pisadas dejaban huellas, fue caminando hacia un rumbo desconocido, con la mirada tierna del que ama sin amar.
Tan joven y tan viejo, tan hombre y tan niño, lleno de amor y regocijante de penas, porque sería así, era la incertidumbre que agonizaba, pero en fin, su lucha era con el, no con la sociedad.
Su estigma era la conciencia, su estilo era la humildad, un hombre fuera de serie o una serie poca conocida en la humildad, su vida fue concepto de estudio, su altruismo fue concepto de vida.
Fue Pedro así, el hombre que alcanzó la gloria que no busco, el mejor pintor, el peor amante, el que con trazos largos de colores cautivo el mundo, menos su vida, su andar dejo la huella de un ser, un ser que no dejo su huella en si.
Pedro el hombre que grito al mundo "A mí me gustaría"
His illusions were simple, his dreams were out of focus, his joy was altruistic, his footsteps left traces, he walked towards an unknown direction, with the tender look of the one who loves without loving.
So young and so old, so man and so child, full of love and rejoicing in sorrow, because it would be like that, it was the uncertainty that agonised, but in the end, his struggle was with himself, not with society.
His stigma was conscience, his style was humility, a man out of a series or a series little known in humility, his life was a concept of study, his altruism was a concept of life.
It was Pedro thus, the man who reached the glory he did not seek, the best painter, the worst lover, the one who with long strokes of colours captivated the world, except his life, his walk left the mark of a being, a being who did not leave his mark on himself.
Pedro, the man who shouted to the world "I would like to".