Come and see the blood in the streets.

Contributed By Lucia from Spain

I added the Pics

Come and see the blood

in the streets.

Come and see the blood

in the streets.

Come and see

The blood in the streets.

Come and see the blood

In the streets!

***

I want to dedicate to the Gazans, in solidarity, a fragment of a poem that Neruda wrote for us. (He then lived in Madrid and was a witness).

Its title is "I'm explaining a few things"


(...) And one morning all that was burning,

one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth

devouring human beings-

and from then on fire,

gunpowder from then on,

and from then on blood.

Bandits with planes and Moors,

bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,

bandits with black frairs spattering blessings

came through the sky to kill children

and the blood of children ran through the streets

without fuss, like children's blood.


Jackals that the jackals would despise,

stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,

vipers that the vipers would abominate!


Face to face with you I have seen the blood

of Spain tower like a tide

to drown you in one wave

of pride and knives!


Treacherous

generals:

see my dead house,

look at broken Spain;

from every house burning metal flows

instead of flowers,

from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges

and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,

and from every crime bullets are born

which will one day find

the bull's eye of your hearts.


And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry

speak of dreams and leaves

and the great volcanoes of his native land?


Come and see the blood in the streets.

Come and see

The blood in the streets.

Come and see the blood
In the streets!

Pablo Neruda