CHILE: Poem for the last survivor of the Cullipeumo massacre
Hereby we share an unofficial translation of the poem on Alejandro Bustos “El Colorín” the last survivor of the Cullipeumo massacre, a massacred by the bosses against peasants and militants of Paine on the 11th of September coup d’Etat. The poem was found inNewspaper El Pueblo Chile
¡Ni que te fusilaran! Not even if you were shot!
They say you are dead: That you’ve been executed together with the others! That those who saved „the homeland“ have killed you.
They say that you have been killed, for trusting others, as you always been, you went to the most beautiful hells and best land: the land of watermelons and rabbits in the midst of the mountains deeps. They say they’ve left you for dead once and for all; that you remain dying among rocks and hills. That you fed on herbs and generous little veins of water that understood you. That you survived, nourished and cursing. And it was the blood of your brothers from the peasant life and the alleys of Paine that kept you safe and within us. That your reddish hair makes the sun sparkle, unable to look upon so much injustice; the same injustice you ran out onto the road to find your friends… and, perhaps, the bloody vest of your compadre Pereira… They say you’ve left again, never to make us smile at ungrateful justice again.
They say that the same old cowards killed you and that they still won’t be able to smile at your death, which they couldn’t.
That’s why I say: They never killed you!
And because my grandfather once told me. And you one day: “They still owe me the money those bastards stole from me!”
That’s when, that’s where, in the conversation in the Los Quillayes, there it was. There, where the Cullipeumo is, you nailed your rock, finely, besides your class brothers’ shoulder, like a gravestone that shined brightly like a burning star and full of victory. The victory that you, Colorín, held up high for your friends Carlos, Pedro,Orlando, Raúl … and you inherited it from the people that never stopped to fight, Colorín. They say that you have been killed; alike they tried it yesterday. But there’s a thing old but gold, they weren’t and wont be able to do so. In your red head keeps on shining the peasants dignity. The decisiveness of the poor people of land and towns will continue to shine brightly, like firm life.
I told you, hey, warrior of a thousand battles, they never killed you, even if they shot you.
Like Benedetti said: Colorín, colorado, this story isn’t over… even if they shot you again, because youwill continue living here.
To Alejandro Bustos
By Txino July, 2025
