Cristián Warnken. Thursday December 27, 2007. El Mercurio.
Clemente:
Cry for you, your garden, always insisted on calling "my garden." Intruder cries black and white cat that prowled in the evening and you call my cat friend. Cries the hill Manquehue, you saw from the window of your room. Admiral Plaza cries Acevedo, around which would run over and over again, like a Forrest Gump of three years. Cry down the long slide that saw you grow in temerity and for which you jump with joy. Highland mourns the path of the Pyramid, destroyed by the construction of highways and you said "poor mountain." Cries your nana, which he called "my queen", "My beautiful Karen, piropero early. Cry
water sources, against which I was ecstatic watching the water fall, water shocked you more than anything in the world, the river water, water from faucets in the house, which opened incessantly, sea water, oh, you crazy for water, Clemente, all the water in the world weeps for you, and do well in our tears. Cry for you
McWhinnie Tigrett and the Poo and Christopher Robbin, and all his friends, because in his books you feel adventurous family. You were like the Poo McWhinnie, tender, sweet, amical. Cry for you your pacifier spent and faithful, who vainly tried to throw as many times and now is waiting on the empty pillow. You cry for the sculptures of Sculpture Park Pedro de Valdivia, where we were the day before departure, to run, to climb the giant elm, cries for you angel sculpture headless looked puzzled, the cries for you Ulysses bookstore, where we were that evening and where browsed books on a leather armchair. Cry for you the book "Willie the bear," who gave you this afternoon Benjamin, bookseller, and which I did not read you. Cries
wooden staircase our house that came down each morning of your days. Cries the bathroom mirror into which steep you to look at you, like your own face strange, oh, beautiful, too beautiful to last here, on the other side of the mirror. Song Cry "Cangrejito" group pumpkin, you danced so often and wanted to hear again, but that was lost in some corner of our beautiful mess. Cry the rain in winter when you get under the glass panel, looking dropwise. Cry Polo Club horses that always came to spy. Cry War Santos boxes hanging from our walls, and the people of story and characters that greeted as if real, the man in the green umbrella, your friends on the other side of sleep. Wailandia mourns beach, where they are getting wet feet in the waves, what party, what cries, what a laugh. Gulls cry went out there, cries Caleuche restaurant where we went to see the sunset with Angelica and Laura, cries the green flash that never came to see. Stadium Santa Rosa cries of Las Condes, where just started going to school football stadium that will disappear, as everything and everyone disappears because we are a duel purpose. Cries Forest Park where you were born, street cries Ismael Valdés Vergara. Cry taxis where you liked to take you in the morning to your garden. Cry three pads installed obsessive yourself, until they were perfect (and you said "perfect"), where posabas your head full of curls to take your bottle. Everybody cries, so will your loved swimming, he saw you, happy, swimming, how heartbroken cries! Things you played Lloran, where we walked, we cried, and no tears.
So why do you laugh, why your face pure dead child insists on laughing, crying inconsolably while everyone? Why are you laughing, Clement, my love, our pain?
Clemente:
Cry for you, your garden, always insisted on calling "my garden." Intruder cries black and white cat that prowled in the evening and you call my cat friend. Cries the hill Manquehue, you saw from the window of your room. Admiral Plaza cries Acevedo, around which would run over and over again, like a Forrest Gump of three years. Cry down the long slide that saw you grow in temerity and for which you jump with joy. Highland mourns the path of the Pyramid, destroyed by the construction of highways and you said "poor mountain." Cries your nana, which he called "my queen", "My beautiful Karen, piropero early. Cry
water sources, against which I was ecstatic watching the water fall, water shocked you more than anything in the world, the river water, water from faucets in the house, which opened incessantly, sea water, oh, you crazy for water, Clemente, all the water in the world weeps for you, and do well in our tears. Cry for you
McWhinnie Tigrett and the Poo and Christopher Robbin, and all his friends, because in his books you feel adventurous family. You were like the Poo McWhinnie, tender, sweet, amical. Cry for you your pacifier spent and faithful, who vainly tried to throw as many times and now is waiting on the empty pillow. You cry for the sculptures of Sculpture Park Pedro de Valdivia, where we were the day before departure, to run, to climb the giant elm, cries for you angel sculpture headless looked puzzled, the cries for you Ulysses bookstore, where we were that evening and where browsed books on a leather armchair. Cry for you the book "Willie the bear," who gave you this afternoon Benjamin, bookseller, and which I did not read you. Cries
wooden staircase our house that came down each morning of your days. Cries the bathroom mirror into which steep you to look at you, like your own face strange, oh, beautiful, too beautiful to last here, on the other side of the mirror. Song Cry "Cangrejito" group pumpkin, you danced so often and wanted to hear again, but that was lost in some corner of our beautiful mess. Cry the rain in winter when you get under the glass panel, looking dropwise. Cry Polo Club horses that always came to spy. Cry War Santos boxes hanging from our walls, and the people of story and characters that greeted as if real, the man in the green umbrella, your friends on the other side of sleep. Wailandia mourns beach, where they are getting wet feet in the waves, what party, what cries, what a laugh. Gulls cry went out there, cries Caleuche restaurant where we went to see the sunset with Angelica and Laura, cries the green flash that never came to see. Stadium Santa Rosa cries of Las Condes, where just started going to school football stadium that will disappear, as everything and everyone disappears because we are a duel purpose. Cries Forest Park where you were born, street cries Ismael Valdés Vergara. Cry taxis where you liked to take you in the morning to your garden. Cry three pads installed obsessive yourself, until they were perfect (and you said "perfect"), where posabas your head full of curls to take your bottle. Everybody cries, so will your loved swimming, he saw you, happy, swimming, how heartbroken cries! Things you played Lloran, where we walked, we cried, and no tears.
So why do you laugh, why your face pure dead child insists on laughing, crying inconsolably while everyone? Why are you laughing, Clement, my love, our pain?
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