Translation of ¿Qué les queda a los jóvenes? by Mario Benedetti
What is left for the young to try
in this world of patience and disgust?
only graffiti? rock? skepticism?
Also to not say amen
to not let their love be killed
to recover their voice and the utopia
to be young without hurry and with memory
to position themselves in a history that is theirs
to not become prematurely old.
What is left for the young to try
in this world of routine and ruin?
cocaine? beer? gangs?
They still have to breathe, to open their eyes
to discover the roots of horror
to invent peace even with blows
to get along with nature
and with rain and with lightning
and with emotion and with death
that madness of binding and loosing.
What is left for the young to try
in this world of consumption and smoke?
vertigo? assaults? clubs?
Still remains to discuss with god
whether it exists or not
to tend a helping hand, to open doors
between their hearts and the hearts of others
But above all that, they still have the future
in spite of the ignoble from the past
and the spiteful of the present.