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Station 5
Juana in the stand
To Juana Colón
Lit up in every corner
like an uplifting hymn
goes from throat to throat
your name, Juana Colón.
Bursting a poppy
in its cry of color
a murmur becomes a flower
and a throat, a corolla,
to the airs flies
the solidary coat of arms
spinning the song
in the village echo
of its crystalline verb
in every corner.
Repeated in alleys,
in every footprint is a cry,
handful of unwritten light
illuminating small villages,
forgotten in the schools,
but the whistle sings to it,
in the workshop it grows,
in the factory it is assumed,
in the village it is summed up
as an uplifting hymn.
Although illiterate, enlightened
in the street, in the struggle
that in every vein is heard
like a river of dawn,
like an impetuous waterfall
whose strength frightens
who suckles wealth
by descaling the workshops,
your feat of dawns
goes from throat to throat.
You are the millenary passion
of those who have set out
the yearning to conquer
a solitary star,
supportive bearer
of star, hymn and song,
shouting revolution,
illuminated by the jacho,
that writes in red plume
your name, Juana Colón.
-William Perez Vega

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