Dear Brothers and Sisters,One Love!!24 years ago, under military dictatorship of rape,murder and inmense grey sadness,They went in search of him, Juan Gelman the Poet,That night he was not a home, so, with death logic and claws,they went and picked up his son instead.Happened that his son had a wife,and the girl was pregnant, both in their twenties,so they took her too, what the fuck!He was tortured and killed,His grandfather, Juan, searched for him or his bonesfound them, kinda twenty years after,and a bit of peace came to his heart.His son's wife, was tootortured, and gave birth under it in a concentration camp,then, after, of course, with death logic,tortured her a bit more then killed herand her bones were never found,But the grandfather the poet the Mankept on searchingfrom exhile, from wherever, from nowhere,and twenty four years after, he found the baby, that is today,She's 24, he?i do not knowageless oldancient but never rusty.Saw the man on tv, telling the news to all of usthat found in her in him our own belovednever lost compaeros/as.Saw the Man, a teara single teardrop falling from his voicewho can say of happiness or pain,a single, only, tear, the sourceof all poetry, all dignity all struggleall finding all walking all loving all livingare contained in this, this, this,tear mixing with this red wine glassrised with salud! cheers!for life for revolution for the One LoveDead can really dance.Auttum has definitely comeas every year and sometimes daysas leaves dancing and nightsas days years nights leavesrunning slow like a snaila heart a love a missing a holedressed in poetry in faith in the wordthat calling the true name singsbringing forth the mistery of lifethe pain the heart the memory the walkpathless deep track blood seaching bloodpulse searching pulse and nothingnoone not the nobodiesthat dissapeared tortured killedand many other names that i'll spare the ear ofhas stopped, arrested, poluted, weakenedthe auttum eyes the poetry dressed heartthe nights the missing the lovetoday great day humble day justice daythis pulse searching palpitating the holehas found his blood that is to saysingcryhas found his seed his flower found her windand the seed, of all of us seed searchflyes fertilized in this seain which at least this time this laughter tearis resting is dancing is shining the pastis unpredictable the future is less mistylike the trees flying as the birdsunclouding the red oceans.Augusto Alcalde3/31/2000