Music has become still.
Words are suddenly empty shells.
Eyes, red and dry, as in a long mourning.
Heart—aching and tender.
The ruggedly-handsome man
No longer hums and strums his guitar.
An exit and then the hush!
The rich soul is merged with the
Twinkling stars, its final home.
I wander alone on the heath and plain
In search of an artist that can sing songs
Of resistance, hope and resilience
And articulate the sad state
Of a community/nation oppressed.
The One that popularized the New Chilean Song
And turned it into a
Universal anthem of the suppressed.
Angel Parra, dear comrade!
You roamed Europe, Australia and North America
And taught the Chilean Diaspora and other fans
The joy of telling the truth that can stir a people and
Make the dictators, the junta, tremble through the committed music.
Angel Parra—now gone forever physically
But part of the universe of the counter-culture and
Emerging undergrounds in every nation.
You continue to live
In your songs that will never fade
like the market-driven pop lyrics that
make us numb.
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