_{Leonardo. Ai}

Recuerdos

El dolor era el terreno donde
se atizaba los sueños,
en las madrugadas,
mi mamá abría el día para su lucha diaria,
preparaba las viandas con el alimento necesario,
todo quedaba listo para las faenas escolares.

Los miedos siempre acompañaban,
por eso, cuando iba a la escuela,
llevaba los pies ateridos
y un pensamiento inmune al ruido.

La distancia recorrida
era medida en soledad,
pesaban las risas de los otros muchachos,
los juegos no deseados,
peleas,
los retos impuestos.

Las tareas se dificultaban
bajo la mirada hierática del maestro.
Pasar al aula,
era otro universo.

El regreso era esquivo con el dolor,
un morral cargado de dudas,
guardaba los deseos.
Dibujaba lágrimas en los cuadernos
para no mojar mis ojos,
terminaba mis tareas en la soledad,
con la satisfacción de haberla hecho,
luego me iba a dormir.

Soñaba entonces con la calidez de una mirada cansada,
de una mano recorriendo mi cabello.
Mi mamá se paseaba entre las hamacas
para asegurar el descanso de sus hijos,
el abrazo siempre quedaba en la imaginación.

Los domingos eran las reprimendas,
las peleas de hermanos,
los azotes necesarios.

_{Leonardo. Ai}

Memories

Pain was the ground where
dreams were stirred,
in the early hours of the morning,
my mother began her daily struggle,
preparing the necessary food,
everything ready for schoolwork.

Fears always accompanied me,
so when I went to school,
my feet were numb
and my thoughts were immune to noise.

The distance traveled
was measured in solitude,
the laughter of the other boys weighed heavily,
the unwanted games,
fights,
the challenges imposed.

The tasks became difficult
under the stern gaze of the teacher.
Entering the classroom
was like entering another universe.

The return home was elusive with pain,
a backpack loaded with doubts,
I kept my desires to myself.
I drew tears in my notebooks
so as not to wet my eyes,
I finished my homework in solitude,
with the satisfaction of having done it,
then I went to sleep.

I would dream of the warmth of a tired gaze,
of a hand running through my hair.
My mother would walk between the hammocks
to make sure her children were resting,
but the hug always remained in my imagination.

Sundays were for reprimands,
sibling fights,
and necessary spankings.

_{Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
Images edited with PhotoScape}