Yesterday I returned from leave for what could have been a tremendously sad occasion, the memorial event for Max. Max's life was tragically cut short during his year abroad in Cadiz and we gathered to remember him and to dedicate a tree to his memory. Friends and family told of a young man, full of life and promise, who brightened the lives of those around him with his enthusiasm, charisma, genuine interest in others, effortless cool and joie de vivre. A life well lived.
As his teacher I was invited to say a few words. Max may not have been our most conscientious student but he certainly made seminars animated. He did not sit on the sidelines, he took part.
Our section chose a poem put forward by another colleague who also taught Max, Patricia Oliart, who kindly provided the paraphrase into English too. The poem is by the Uruguayan author Mario Benedetti, an author Max studied with us. Benedetti is full of passion, compassion and love for humanity with all its weaknesses and strengths.
Chau número tres
Mario Benedetti
This poem is a farewell. About someone leaving his loved ones with their lives, work, people, surroundings, joys, hopes and fears, and without him. Without his questions or answers, without his doubts, without his childlike qualities, but also without his wisdom. But he promises that he is not abandoning them as he will be in unexpected places keeping them company: in an old tree, in children's smiles, in the shadows and in their dreams, where he hopes they will be able to look each other in the eyes.
Te dejo con tu vida
Tu trabajo
Tu gente
Con tus puestas de sol
Y tus amaneceres
Sembrando tu confianza
Te dejo junto al mundo
Derrotando imposibles
Segura sin seguro
Te dejo frente al mar
Descifrándote a solas
Sin mi pregunta a ciegas
Sin mi respuesta rota
Te dejo sin mis dudas
Pobres y malheridas
Sin mis inmadureces
Sin mi veteranía
Pero tampoco creas
A pie juntillas todo
No creas, nunca creas
Este falso abandono
Estaré donde menos lo esperes
Por ejemplo en un arbol añoso
de oscuros cabeceos
Estaré en un lejano horizonte sin horas
En la huella del tacto
En tu sombra y mi sombra
Estaré repartido en cuatro o cinco pibes
De esos que vos mirás
Y enseguida te siguen
Y ojalá pueda estar
De tu sueño en la red
Esperando tus ojos
Y mirándote
Dr Vanessa Knights
1 comment:
Thats a lovely poem that seems painfully perfect, especially about the dreams. Personally i try and see Max in as many places as possible to keep him close. Thank you for the service, it was extremely touching and well carried out.
Ize
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