6: Song: Draga Mama

NARRATOR
Liebe Mutter,
Ich fühle mich verloren hier, oder werde ich verrückt?
Erinnerungen werden wach..
Du warst diese berühmte Fotografin, auf der ganzen Welt
und bist zurückgekehrt, nach Hause
und hast nie wieder Fuß gefasst.
Ich bin dein Sohn und so weit weg

THE MAN (HR) Draga mama,
I suppose I never faced
this feeling of turning mad.
It is a
harsh feeling, raw or rather nude.

Do you remember when you showed me
the castle, mother?
You told me
the story of the photographer. A
lady who had traveled the world,
had come back into her hometown
and could not get back into
society in these times.
She like you, had a son like me.
(He continues writing…)

NARRATOR
Wer hat jemals behauptet, dass Soldaten Helden seien?
Ich fühle mich so verletzlich und ängstlich hier.
Viele andere auch.
Sie geben uns Drogen, damit wir töten können.
Bin ich ein Feigling, Mutter?

They had me become this soldier, a
hero they say, but really, I feel
like a failure. Fearful I am, not
feeling ready to protect my land
nor my people. Could I run to you,
I would.

Please forgive my openness mother
and the shame I do bring onto you
by being such a coward.

MOTHER (SLO): what do you see, son, you ask,
remember you don’t look with your eyes only… “

NURSE
Nehmt das, es wird euch helfen zur Ruhe zu kommen.
Aber glaubt nicht alles was ihr seht – man sieht nicht nur mit den Augen!

THE MAN + THE MOTHER:
men are not made for war.
We fear, we dread, we refrain
from doing the heroic things.
And
then they provide us with
substances. To strengthen the
nerves they say, but it is drugs
to reduce the hesitancies.
I was shattered, deluded and
truly felt deceived.
Dear mother, I hear the shooting, time
it is, I need to leave,
truly your son.

SONG: THE BRAVE SOLDIER (Music and lyrics by Camilo La Torre)

Looking for a little bird that
still sings his song
For a glimpse of sky that paints
the trees while I am alone
I’ve traveled the land
with my fears and my deeds
I’ve been to myself a lonely stranger.
Now I alone in the landscape,
I hide behind bushes and trees,
Thinking about all the beloved,
And memories of lost come to me.
In the night there are shadows
that are frightening me,
In my mind I feel arrows,
That hurt me so deep.
There is no war
that is worth the blood of us being
violent, God,
Cruel, God,
with no farseeing.