Alegria

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 05, 2011

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Submitted: December 05, 2011

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Où te caches-tu, Alegria, pour enfants de la rue qui n’ont meme pas de quoi se payer un rire. Ce soir, nos cris de joie deviedront cris de rage alors que des milliers de juenes cœurs se perdront au plus profound de notre bienveillance. Vivement que le chant d’Alegria entraîne cuex de nous qui ont la volonté d’agir!

We have no illusions. The children of the streets will not see Alegria. Laughter is still a luxury they cannot afford. Tonight, our cries of joy will become screams of rage that millions of young hearts will again freeze in the gutters of our goodwill. May Alegria become a rallying call for those of us who have a voice.

 

These words, this simple song, clung to me. I am a child of the street. I am prey to the freezing gutters of those with voices’ goodwill. I have never seen Alegria. I am an orphan. I roam the streets. I steal for my life. If I am caught, I will surely die. I wish to not die. I am but a street rat, orphaned and discarded by a cruel and cold world. But one day, things will change. Today I sweep a man’s front step for a small loaf of bread that will last me maybe two days. Tomorrow, I do not know what will happen. So I do not worry for the future. I see only what is directly ahead of me. Where I will rest when the sun disappears behind the hills. Where I will get my next meal. When I will get my next meal. Now I am off again to roam the streets. If I am lucky, I might be handed a few pennies. In this city, the homeless were the filth of the streets. I clamber up from my hovel, an old bedspread in a broken shipping crate. I pack it up and begin to walk down the street. This is my life. And it will be my death.


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