Por Ana María Aboglio.
Translated by Elizabeth Aldam.
Roars in the piano silence violins
Entranced by red velvet quavers
A lash vibrates among cords,
Boards creak, cages grunt.
Applause echoes the tempo of moans.
This is the theatre of the nineteenth,
The orchestra is heard among mobile phones
But history tolls another show.
Spotlights paint three shadows, as ghosts
They show battles and despair
In the corridors wanders the lapse
Of the circus killed on that stage
where there was blood of submission.
This is the theatre of the nineteenth,
Once the orchestra strikes three notes
The time of that horror comes back to life.
Photos: Francisco R. Cavigioli Spahn.