Juan C. Tajes (Uruguay – Netherlands)

 
Juan C. Tajes (Uruguay – Netherlands)
 
Juan C. Tajes, Uruguay 1946
Poeta y artista multidisciplinario. Reside en Holanda desde 1971. Escribe poesía, teatro, narrativa y ensayo. Organiza eventos culturales e imparte conferencias sobre diferentes sujetos. Tiene obra literaria publicada y traducida en diferentes paises y participa en festivales literarios internacionales. Colabora con revistas literarias en Holanda, Argentina, Brasil y México. . Es profesor de interptretación para cantantes en el Conservatorio de Rotterdam WMDC y enseñante de Arte Oratoria en la Universidad de Ciencias Políticas de Paris.
 
 
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Juan C. Tajes, 1946 -Uruguay-Nederland
Poet and multidisciplinary artist. He has lived in Holland since 1971. He writes poetry, theater, narrative and essay. Organize cultural events and give lectures on different subjects. He has literary work published and translated in different countries and participates in international literary festivals. Collaborates with literary magazines in the Nethterlands, Argentina, Brazil and Mexico.He was professor of interpreation for singers at the WMDC Rotterdam Conservatory and teacher of Oratory Art at the University of Political Sciences of Paris.
 
 
Hellen, about war
 
They have told that Paris kidnapped me,
but I made my own decision.
They said Paris was the culprit
And me, the cause of war.
I will work that destiny.
 
In my name they claimed revenge.
In my name they invaded.
In my name they humiliated.
In my name they ransacked,
In my name they killed.
But nobody asked me for permission
to use my name
I was not the cause,
I was the pretext.
Suddenly I was of national interest!
 
Everyone says they want to end the war
because they are tired of fighting,
for the moment,
or because they have lost track of
of how to resolve the conflict,
for the moment.
But nobody really wants peace,
because they don’t know what to do with her.
It is very difficult to live in peace.
You have to be willing to share,
To make extreme concessions.
And nobody, no nation is willing
to make concessions at the expense
of giving up their privileges.
None.
That’s why I had no scruples
in deciding to act,
in betraying each other,
to finish my days in peace.
My peace!. It was me who,
from a palace window,
waved a torch to give the signal.
The Achaeans left the belly of the beast
and killed all they found in the way.
They killed King Priam,
they set the city on fire
They made their women slaves.
Those things that men do.
 
Now I’m Elena of Argos again,
And I don’t bear anymore the responsibility of beauty.
I can show my true face now,
the face of a woman who has seen
and has spent life provoking emotions,
sometimes accused, sometimes acquitted.
These eyes, who had the
most suggestive look in history,
have witnessed injustices and ignominy,
but finally are depositaries
of compassion, and have learned to see
more in essence than in appearance.
Tired of always being beautiful,
I now console myself by being ugly Every day.
but I still keep the peaceful and wild appeal
of primitive idols.
This one, my body, that I used to dance
with the agility of a dove in love,
still ripples and sways
With the wisdom of a cunning snake.
But only for Menelaus,
in the intimate gloom of our bedroom.
And now, finally together again,
I reign by his side in Argos.
We share that serene boredom
taken in common,
that mortals call happiness …
 
 
Andromache, about war
 
There is nothing more natural in man than war.
War ignites the passions.
War unites us, against the enemy.
War is our biggest business.
Possibly the biggest and the most durable.
When we believe wars sleeps,
he wakes. His embers burn
Under the ashes of peace.
The gods are warmongers. For them
War is a natural state.
When two notions of identity meet,
They always resort to confrontation.
Hostility is the instrument of relationship
most banal among men.
Peace is a pause between two wars.
Peace is only a word.
Oh me!
 
Responsible for those crimes,
because that’s what wars are,
orchestrated crimes,
legalized crimes,
are not just the troops that perpetrate them,
but also the kings and the rulers who manage them,
the merchants, who finance them,
the supporters, who encourage them.
I saw King Priam, from the tower,
encourage his soldiers to fight
Like death machines. Queen Hekabeh herself
she offered his son Hector mulled wine
mixed with herbs, to excite him in battle.
Everything is justified by the love of country,
of sovereignty, of freedom.
Overestimated, vilified notions.
 
My husband took me to his land
and nobody took into account my nationality,
They didn’t ask me where my homeland was.
I was the sacrificial wife, a bestial offering.
My marriage was a political alliance,
an economic and military pact.
I went from being the daughter of a soldier king
and sister of princes – soldiers,
to be the wife of another prince, also a soldier.
More soldier than prince.
Oh me!
 
Soldiers they swear by their honor.
soldiers comply.
soldiers send.
soldiers obey.
If they have to wait, they wait.
If they have to go, they go.
If they have to leave, they leave.
They never ask.
They never question.
They abide
Due obedience, they call it.
Mission accomplished.
 

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