Oscar Castro
Specifically we are talking about discovery of AMERICA Habria a: start again. Starting from the root of the Indian. Go to the pure source without concepts already facts. Only thus will find America not discovered, the America of belly clear and jocundos breasts, the America with their own language singer, galloping their freedom of Mare young man under heaven.We have four centuries of invasions. We don’t use our eyes. Strange feet walking by our inheritances.Foreign words define our gestures.
Gold, copper and Americans sweat – amalgam of shouts and protests – ply the sea in ships of incomprehensible names. America. I say: the America of bananas, and coffee plantations, and the caucheras and minerals. The America that stop abundance. America’s great rivers and large mountains. The new world that is nursing the old world. The land on which my brothers the outcasts are hungry.The America, Yes, America quo needn’t suckler herds, because he drinks milk of heaven at the Summit of the Aconcagua.
Not the America school known by the maps: Earth tattooed names and colors, split in Panama by a channel iron and food in the South by the southern ice, but this other, this one that is born in the stone ridge of the Andes and falls like a green poncho at two blue seas. This is going in my singing American, resonating in the Gallop the Charro, the huaso, the llanero, Indian and gaucho. That goes in the back of the charger docks, and in the spur grandona, and flowered hat, and in the ojota kissed by water and land, and in the smell of bitter mate, and in the lament of the quena and the trutruca and the aroma of ripe pineapple, and corn laughing with laughter of satyr, and the coconut and jicara that receives its juice. That is the America, brethren. It’s pure morning. They sing the birds. She sings the Mockingbird and the quetzal is a lightning bolt. Let’s discover our America. The day waving their wide flags. It is time to leave and dawn. Let’s begin. Definitely very valid which says us atinachile.cl., Oscar Castro, was a Poet of simple things, of peasant mornings, the provincials loves; storyteller of childhood and the rugged miners, was able to convey, in his short life, images and feelings that remain at the heart of every sensitive reader original author and source of the article.