‘Yo no creo en brujas, pero que las hay, las hay’
(Galicia’s cruel saying)
There was a thief that a bad luck set him
on the way to your house;
a rapist that someone drove his madness’ eyes
and his insane desire to that dear friend of yours,
or, who knows, the weight of evil,
even to your much-loved daughter.
A runaway truck that went around, didn’t catch you,
but wrecked a car with your friend’s sister,
also destroying her life and her family’s.
An irate driver who picked you up in traffic,
for, without any motive or reason, to overflow
all his hatred towards this world we live in.
That drug dealer who once saw at your son
a certain hopelessness of youth and guided him,
without pity or hesitation, with all wickedness,
on the sordid path of addiction.
The one you thought your friend but directed you,
with false truths and promises of great gains,
for a business he never had money or courage to.
That stranger (maybe even a friend),
who has set the eyes of malice and sin in your wife.
That sullen and unpredictable man, let loose on the streets,
instead of locked up in a hospital, who can, on the outbreak,
of the moment, just take your life.
So are some ways generated by witches you never knew,
nor had never wished to know,
who, for free and pleasure of wrongdoing, also for envy,
collide daily with your brothers and sisters,
and are always looking for you too.
This poem and all others at this blog, authored by Edilson Afonso Ferreira ©