Hemos vivido los últimos seis meses al borde del East River, frente por frente a Roosevelt Island, antes llamada Welfare Island. En los viejos edificios de la isla, que hoy son laboratorios, hospitales y fábricas, hubo centros psiquiátricos de reclusión o "lunatic asylum". La islita tiene su faro, su octagón, varias iglesias, un paseo marítimo con magnolias, que en primavera se llena de turistas japoneses, y una extraña escultura que lleva el nombre de "Sabrina". Tengo entendido que en uno de los viejos edificios, que todavía en los años 40 era "lunatic asylum", estuvo temporalmente ingresada la poeta puertorriqueña Julia de Burgos y que en el cementerio de la isla fue enterrada, con el nombre de Jane Doe, ya que al momento de ser declarada muerta en un hospital de Harlem, en 1953, no llevaba identificación. Uno de los poemas de Julia de Burgos, en inglés, lleva por título, precisamente, "Farewell from Welfare Island":
It has to come from here,
right this instance,
my cry into the world.
The past is only a shadow emerging from
nowhere.
nowhere.
Life was somewhere forgotten
and sought refuge in depths of tears
and sorrows;
over this vast empire of solitude and darkness.
Where is the voice of freedom,
freedom to laugh,
to move
without the heavy phantom of despair?
Where is the form of beauty
unshaken in its veil, simple and pure?
Where is the warmth of heaven
pouring its dreams of love in broken
spirits?
and sought refuge in depths of tears
and sorrows;
over this vast empire of solitude and darkness.
Where is the voice of freedom,
freedom to laugh,
to move
without the heavy phantom of despair?
Where is the form of beauty
unshaken in its veil, simple and pure?
Where is the warmth of heaven
pouring its dreams of love in broken
spirits?
It has to be from here,
right this instance,
my cry into the world.
My cry that is no more mine,
but hers and his forever,
the comrades of my silence,
the phantoms of my grave.
right this instance,
my cry into the world.
My cry that is no more mine,
but hers and his forever,
the comrades of my silence,
the phantoms of my grave.
It has to be from here,
forgotten but unshaken,
among comrades of silence
deep into Welfare Island
my farewell to the world.
forgotten but unshaken,
among comrades of silence
deep into Welfare Island
my farewell to the world.