"The Parade Ends" by Reinaldo Arenas

[Passion of the Poets]

Walking along streets that collapse from crumbling sewers

Past buildings you jump to avoid… in case they fall on you

Past grim faces that size you up and sentence you

Past closed shops, cinemas, closed parks, closed cafes,

Some of them showing dusty signs (justifications):

“CLOSED FOR RENOVATION”

“CLOSED FOR REPAIRS”

What repairs? When will these renovations be finished?

When at least will they begin?

Closed… closed… closed… everything closed

I arrive, open countless padlocks and run up the temporary stairs

There she is, waiting for me

I pull off the typewriter cover, and stare at her dusty, cold shape

I clean off the dust and caress her

With my hands, I brush clean her back, her base and her sides

I sit down in front of her, desperate and happy

I run my fingers over her keyboard and suddenly it all starts up

With a tinkling sound the music begins, then speeds up more and more

Walls, trees, streets, cathedrals, faces and beaches…

Cells, mini-cells, huge cells

Starry nights, bare feet, pines clouds

Hundreds, thousands, a million parrots, stools, a climbing plant

The walls recede, the roof vanishes, and you float quite naturally

You float uprooted, dragged off, lifted high

You are transported, immortalized, saved, honored

Thanks to that subtle, continuous rhythm…

That music, that incessant tap-tap

--by Reinaldo Arenas

[Michael Guy]

A very original and enticing way to parable the creative experience of a great writer! Thanks for posting this.
Best to you, you "Passionate Poet Poster!"