Ingeniero

Langston Huges
Durante una entrevista que me hicieron en una Universidad de Guadalajara me preguntaban sobre poetas que habían influenciado en mi carrera literaria. En ese momento y como suele pasarme; sólo atiné a decir unos cuantos nombres. (Años de adicción al alcohol han creado severos daños en mi tejido neuronal) Unos días después, por no acotar los dos meses que me llevó recordarlo, trasel triunfo de Barak Husein Obama, vino a mi mente un poeta infaltable en la lista de mis influencias, nítido, aunque un poco tambaleante después del quinto tequila del festejo. Las tersas rimas de Langston Huges, poeta negro del siglo pasado, vertidas en el poema de su autoría “Let America Be America Again” que en esas lagunas de la remembranza conquistada pudieron galopar briosas nuevamente eneste terreno yermo de mi cabeza tan estéril. Poco a poco las palabras fueron formándose en un idioma tan extraño. Con colores tan antípodas de los míos y ahora algo me conmueve en medio del vaho de la embriaguez. La felicidad liberada de ver al tirano derrotado. Envuelto en llamas. El ideal. El Cámelot que corre a la velocidad del horizonte, y el dolor de quien se decide a perseguirlo. Pero sobretodo la esperanza, que no puede dejar de ser sobrecogedora. Y al pie de la letra como suele pasarme en estos estados de la inspiradora borrachera (sobre todo mmmmh… con las lenguas extranjeras)…
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be thedream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above…

…(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I amthe Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Ofwork the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

... I'm theone who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sungAnd all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

Oh, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith andpain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again…

…Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must...