The last chapter of the memoir by Pablo Neruda, confess that I lived, is devoted to Salvador Allende and was written three days after the assassination of the President colpisti by the military under Pinochet.
My people has been betrayed the most of this time. From the deserts of saltpetre, Sotomarino coal mines, from the heights where he is terrible copper extracted with inhuman work of the hands of my people, there arose a great liberator of movement amplitude. That movement led to a man named president of Chile Salvador Allende to implement reforms and measures of justice no longer be deferred, to redeem our national wealth by foreign ginfie.
Wherever it was, in more distant countries, people have admired President Allende, and praised the extraordinary diversity of our government. Never in the history of the United Nations headquarters in Nerw York has heard an ovation like the one on giving the president of Chile from delegates from around the world. Here in Chile was being built, including immense difficulties, a society where justice, high on the basis of our sovereignty, our national pride, heroism of the best people in Chile From our side, the side of the Chilean revolution, were the constitution and the law, democracy and hope.
other hand nothing was missing. There were clowns and puffins, clowns in heaps, terrorists and gun-chains, fake monks and military degraded. Each other and turned the carousel of despair. They went hand in hand Jarpa the fascist and his cousins \u200b\u200b"Homeland and Freedom", willing to break his head and soul to what exists in order to recover the large company for them was Chile with them to make more farandole the pleasant, a great banker and dancer dancing, a little 'blood-stained, was the field of rumba Gonzales Videla, who danced the rumba his party long ago surrendered to the enemies of the people. Now it was that Frei offered his Christian Democrat party to the same enemies of the people, and danced to the music they played, and danced with him, the former colonel Viaux, of which he was complicit in wrongdoing. These were the major artists of the play. Dell'accaparramento had prepared the food, the "miguelitos" (four-headed nails used during the lock-out of private carriers), the garrote and the same bullet that wounded yesterday in the death of our people in Iquique, a Ranquin to Salvador, Puerto Montt, in Jose Maria Caro, Frutillar, Puente Alto and in many other places. The murderers of Hernan Mery danced with who would defend the memory. Dancing with ease, from bigots. They felt offended when the were blamed these "small details".
Chile has a long history with few civil revolutions, and many governments stable, conservative and mediocre. Many presidents small and only two great presidents: Balmaceda and Allende. It 'strange that both were from the same class, the rich bourgeoisie, who here calls himself aristocracy. As men of principles, committed to zoom in on a poor country dwarfed by the oligarchy, the two were brought to death the same way. Balmaceda was forced to commit suicide for his opposition to the selling off of the wealth of saltpeter to foreign companies.
Allende was assassinated for having nationalized the other wealth of the subsoil Chilean copper. In both cases the Chilean oligarchy has organized the bloody revolutions. In both cases the military has served as the pack of dogs. The British companies in the case of Balmaceda, those in the U.S. case of Allende, fomented and financed these military movements.
In both cases the houses were robbed on the orders of the presidents of our distinguished "aristocrats" . The halls of Balmaceda were destroyed with an ax. Allende's house, thanks to the progress of the world, was bombed from the air by our heroic aviators.
Yet these two men were very different. Balmaceda oration was seductive. He had a commanding appearance that brought him closer and closer to the one-man command. He was sure dell'elevatezza his purposes. At any time you saw surrounded by enemies. Its superiority on the environment in which they lived was so big and so great is his loneliness, which ended up closing in upon itself. The people who had to help him did not exist as a force, that is to say, was not organized. That president was sentenced to act as an enlightened, as a dreamer: his dream was a dream of greatness. After his assassination, the rapacious foreign merchants and parliamentarians took possession of the saltpetre Creole: for foreign ownership and concessions for the Creoles percentages. Try all the money had returned to normal. The blood of thousands of men of the people wiped immediately on the battlefield. The most exploited workers in the world, those in the northern regions of Chile, continued to produce huge amounts of pounds for the City of London.
Allende was never a great orator. And as a statesman was a ruler who sought her advice for the steps he was taking. It was a antidittatore, the democratic principle in every detail. She touched a country that was no longer the people of beginner Balmaceda, he found a powerful working class, who knew what it was. Allende was a collective leadership, a man who, without coming from the popular classes, was a product of the struggle of those classes against the stagnation and corruption of their exploiters. For these reasons and reasons, the work created by Allende in such a short time is greater than that of Balmaceda, not only is the most important in the history of Chile Only the nationalization of the copper was a titanic. And the destruction of monopolies, and a profound agrarian reform, and many other objectives that were achieved under his rule essentially collective.
transactions and events of Allende, the national value of indelible, rendered furious enemies of our liberation. The symbolism of this tragic crisis is revealed in the bombing of government building, an aviation evokes the Nazi blitzkrieg against defenseless foreign cities, English, English, Russian, and now the same crime happened in Chile; Chilean pilots attacked beaten in the palace for two centuries was the center of civic life in the country.
I write these lines to fast three days from the unspeakable events that led to the death of my great friend, President Allende. On his assassination was intended to silence was buried secretly and only to his widow was allowed to accompany that immortal body. The version of the attackers is that they found his dead body with visible signs of suicide. The version that was published abroad is different. Immediately after the bombing saw action tanks, many tanks, fighting bravely against one man: the president of Chile, Salvador Allende, who was waiting in his office, no other company that his great heart, surrounded by smoke and flames.
had to take advantage of an opportunity so beautiful. We had strafed because he would never resign from office. That body was buried secretly in any location. That corpse went to the tomb accompanied by one woman who carried within itself all the pain of the world, the glorious dead figure and ground was riddled by machine-gun shots of the soldiers of Chile, which once again had betrayed Chile
Ten days after writing these lines, September 23, 1973, Neruda died. Struck down by illness he suffered since 1971. But, in reality, the coup, violence and brutality in which he saw her plunge the country had cut its vigorous plant roots, the whole man, a poet warrior. And the violence would not have spared even after death his coffin lay among the broken glass, torn pages of his books, sections of its figureheads, on earth, the home of Santiago destroyed by soldiers. But the song that blossomed from the lips of the three thousand that went on his last journey, quell'Internazionale sung half-heartedly, defying police and soldiers, is the last promise that the nation has made to his poet's promise a ransom of course, the answer to this exhortation, which Neruda wrote at other times dark, but that is divenutta tragically timely and that will happen with all her light:
My people, my people, lift your destiny!
Destroy the prison, open the walls that enclose you! Crush the grim
step that controls the mouse
from his palace: Raise your spears at dawn,
and let your star in the highest
angry flashes and lights up the streets of America
(Dal Canto General)
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