Parábola de Uno Mismo - Alberto Cortez

Uno va subiendo la vida

De a cuatro los primeros escalones

Tiene todas las luces encendidas

Y el corazón repleto de ilusiones…

Uno va quemando energías

Es joven, tiene fe y está seguro

Soltándole la rienda a su osadía

Llegará sin retrasos el futuro…

Y uno sube, sube, sube

Flotando como un globo en el espacio

Los humos los confunde con las nubes

Subestimando a todos los de abajo…

Y uno sigue, sigue, sigue

Sumando vanaglorias y ambiciones

No sabe en realidad lo que persigue

Y va de distorsión en distorsiones…

Uno es un montón de etiquetas

Es un escaparate, un decorado

Un simple personaje de opereta

Un fruto de consumo consumado…

Uno es una simple herramienta

Que tiran cuando ya cae en desuso

Uno lo sabe, pero no escarmienta

Sigue aferrado a la ilusión que puso…

Y uno piensa, piensa, piensa

Que siempre seguirá en el candelero

Que nunca ha de vaciarse su despensa

Que queda mucha tinta en el tintero…

Y uno sigue, sigue, sigue

Cautivo de su imagen, caminando

El ego desbordado no concibe

Que muchos otros vengan empujando…

Y uno va teniendo evidencias

Ya no recibe flores ni palmadas

Rechaza que empezó su decadencia

Que va por la escalera de bajada…

Uno alza su voz de protesta

Suplica por seguir estando a bordo

Y duda, cuando nadie le contesta

Si se ha quedado mudo o si son sordos…

Si uno baja, baja, baja

No quiere, por orgullo, lamentarse

Que ya no es quien baraja la baraja

Ni se ha guardado un as para jugarse…

Y uno baja, baja, baja

Desciende lentamente hacia el olvido

Hay algo en su balance que no encaja

Lo que ha querido ser y que no ha sido…

Uno queda solo en la mesa

Negando su pasado amargamente

Le cuesta confesar que ha sido presa

De un canto de sirenas permanente…

Y uno es una isla desierta

Un médano en el mar, un espejismo

Empieza por abrir todas las puertas

Y termina a solas con sí mismo…

one goes up life

From four the first steps

Got all the lights on

And the heart full of illusions...

One is burning energy

He is young, he has faith and he is sure

Releasing his boldness

He will arrive without delay the future...

And one goes up, up, up

Floating like a balloon in space

The fumes are confused with the clouds

Underestimating everyone below...

And one goes on, on, on

Adding vainglories and ambitions

He doesn't really know what he's after

And he goes from distortion to distortions…

One is a bunch of labels

It is a showcase, a decoration

A simple operetta character

A fruit of consummated consumption…

One is a simple tool

What do they throw away when it falls into disuse?

One knows it, but does not teach

He is still clinging to the illusion that he put...

And you think, think, think

That he will always remain in the spotlight

That your pantry should never be emptied

There is a lot of ink left in the inkwell...

And one goes on, on, on

Captive of his image of him, walking

The overflowing ego does not conceive

May many others come pushing...

And one is having evidence

He no longer receives flowers or pats

Rejects that its decline began

That goes down the stairs...

One raises his voice in protest

Beg to stay on board

And he hesitates, when no one answers him

If he has become mute or if they are deaf...

If one goes down, down, down

He does not want, out of pride, to complain

That he is no longer the one who shuffles the deck

Not even an ace has been saved to be played...

And one goes down, down, down

Slowly descend into oblivion

There is something in your balance that does not fit

What he wanted to be and what he hasn't been...

One is left alone at the table

Denying his past from him bitterly

It is difficult for her to confess that she has been a prisoner

From a permanent sirens song...

And one is a deserted island

A dune in the sea, a mirage

Start by opening all the doors

And he ends up alone with himself...