There is no real need to remember this painful rhyme of Gustavo Adolfo Becquer. They made us recite it by heart, schoolchildren of yesteryear, perhaps so that we children would get used to the urgency of our lives. As adults we have forgotten this lyrical piece by the Sevillian poet who, according to some chronicles of Marisabidilla, did not write it in Seville but in a Navarrese place, the Spa Fitéro where a room bearing his name is still preserved.
Perhaps he arrived at this stage after having suffered a near loss, for the rhyme captures, as this chronicler did not believe he saw better in any other work, the material sting which runs through our body each time it mourns an imminent death. These days, listening daily and constantly to the dramatic events of the tragedy of Valencewe all already know, even better than the technicians themselves, the material disasters caused by this damn Poyo ravine.
The grieving neighbors, prisoners of indignation, tell us how the flood took away their existence; We contemplate how the officers of all the corps and the numerous volunteers clean the streets, remove the mud and make mountains of goods that are no longer useful to sit even for a moment on the tafanario.
In the same way, we see how rigid the different administrations are; how, once again, the PSOE, its government and its collaborators have given a master class on how to place full responsibility for the disaster on others. The mastermind of this enormous and colossal propaganda campaign concocted by the left was Pedro Sanchezwho naturally perpetrated, without losing his shame, three messages that the majority of the crowd unusually bought.
The first was “I’m fine”, said sadly after his escape on the day when the crowd asked the Kinghimself already Mazon. In the end, it was proven that everything was a lie: that Sánchez did not suffer, as he cowardly deplored, an assassination attempt similar to that suffered by another president of the time, Jose Maria Aznarwith the ETA bomb.
The second message is another of his sentences aimed at damaging the credit of the President of the Generalitat: “If you want resources, ask me”; The third, even more indecent because he plays with things to eat, was the story of the millions of euros that he presented as if they actually came from his private checkbook. Another lie: they come from our taxes, from the loans that the victims left behind will take out, and from the insurance premiums that we all pay to our mutual insurance companies. That is, “I’m fine, thank you”; In other words, the villain of the film is the idiot Mazón; And, in other words, as generous as I am, I am sending you countless euros so that you can live even better in the future than before. What shamelessness!
And in the meantime, all Spaniards will have verified it, we ourselves, all of us in general, have forgotten many things about the dead, people until yesterday in full capacity who perished carried away by a murderous flood.
When the Covid pandemic took hold in our country, day by day, and even though the numbers were squeaky, they informed us about it from time to time. how many people had killed the deadly virus. On all televisions one window in which the data was inserted, so that we all know the true extent of this viral catastrophe.
Not now; The dead that DANA buried barely have their place in the news, they occupy fifth or sixth place in general attention: the intelligible complaints of the survivors, the opinions of the technicians, the images of the volunteers removing the mud, the horrible photography of the thousands of cars already scrapped; the exchange of accusations between the governments of Madrid and Valencia, the harsh words of ministers like the head of what do I know of the Environment, the forecasts of aurispices which point every hour towards the repetition of the tragedy fill our screens every minute, our radios, our front pages. But,who talks about the 230 deaths -there will surely be others- that we left underwater? A few masses, the Church has not left its cassock in a trance either, and throws Go on. Nothing else.
The dead, of course, do not ask for subsidies or credits, which is why they are marginalized by insurance companies and even by funeral directors who do not even know what time they can bury or cremate the bodies. If the responsible authorities have to make a payment, it is for not having adequately cared for the lives of this enormity of deceased people. But with them, companies in the sector are calm; the dead are not going to snatch the microphones of any journalist to show his enormous anger and highlight the stories of his misfortune.
A coroner well known to this columnist said that he had chosen this specialty because “the dead are the only sick people who do not complain”. Well seen. It is curious that no one believes that the main consequence, the most undesirable effect of this criminal wave, are the approximately two hundred deaths it has caused. With the rest – we are sure – a country as developed, with as many instruments as Spain, can work, but the dead cannot even find urns in which to place their ashes or tombs to be locked in. My God, how alone the dead are!
Plus, it turns out that when there are many of them, en masse, they are a little less impressive. What matters here is that, as soon as possible, Paiporta either Torrent regain your visibility because it will be the sign that, for once, (remember what happened in The Palm) the commitments of the bastard Sánchez, who is the main protagonist of the catastrophe, are respected even if only a little. The dead, if all can be found, will be laid to rest and no one will mourn them again in the long run. I live up to it… They will certainly be forgotten before the reconstruction work of the Spanish Levante, which suffered so much, is completed.
At present – let no one deny it to me – the number of devastated buildings or the kilometers which flooded the Poyo ravine count much more than this terrible contingent of men and women who will be the only ones who will not be able to continue the reconstruction of their city. How little we care about this cruel reality! My God, how alone the dead are! Also those of Spanish Levant.
