martes, 14 de julio de 2009


Time buried enveloping it's roots over their houses

Black plastic,wood and hammocs
Mute witnesses of an uncertain future
Dead upon birthAll of them already poisoned
None will survive facing The deadly chemicals
Their mother: the Transnational Corporations.

Take me to Nemagon City
There where everyday dignity lives
There where everyday hope dies 
Under the deputies' glassy eyes
Under the silent stare of Managuans.

That city is our City of the Future
Bitter face of Development
Collateral damage of Progress
A future for which no one is responsible
A promise turned treason
Only poisoned citizens
Only the dead sleeping with Nemagon.

Take me to Nemagon City
I want to make tourism out of misery
I want to know about the time Herty -the mayor-tried to hide them
Shall their unsightly presence spoil the mood of Carnaval.

I want to know of their now 
Like those praying in my "rotundas" 
I want to see where they shit, eat and sleep
I want to know what they dream of as they regretfully die.

Which schools will we have named?
What murals will we have painted?
On what day would we commemorate?
When Nemagon City is alone and her inhabitants are all close together
under the earth they once cultivated. 

Because of that 
Take me to Nemagon City
While it still exist
While it still has heart beats
while it still isn't the reminder of why Progress and Development
Are a big cesspool lie.

Autor: Alberto Sanchez A
Traduccion: Cristiane Cuadra