Un loquillo que controla el mundo (A guy who controls the world) [ES/EN]

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Un loquillo que controla el mundo

Un loquillo, loquero, controla el mundo. Un loquillo anda desvariando, por aquí, por allá. Dice algo y el mundo explota. Dice algo y todos temen. Dice muchas cosas, bastantes de las cuales da para hablar.

Se mete en caos, se mete en apocalipsis de fuego. Mira el mundo y apunta a quien no hace su voluntad. Explota como una bomba de neutrones, su rostro enrojece cuando pierde la paciencia, su pelo falso vuela por el aire cuando pierde los estribos.

Su voz retumba por todos los países. Ultimátum lanza a diestra y siniestra, los ojos de muchos salen de sus órbitas, vuelan algunas cabezas, gobiernos caen, regímenes se vuelven fuertes, otros desfallecen ante su verbo violento y autoritario.

El loquillo es feliz cuando se hace su voluntad, cuando sus planes se concretan. Cuando trata de organizar un mundo con tantos matices ideológicos, tantos puntos de vista, tantas formas de gobernar, perversas, corruptas, socialistas, mentirosas, extremistas, idealistas, represivas y teológicas.

El loquillo quiere mover a su corriente a todos, sea por las buenas o con una fuerza destructiva sin medida. El loquillo sueña tal vez con su mundo ideal, donde todos van por un mismo lado, donde todos hacen sin oponerse su voluntad, tal vez el loquillo se cree el rey del mundo.

Tal vez el loquillo recuerda a otro loquillo que quiso conquistar el mundo, en un pasado lejano, en un pasado lleno de muertos, millones y fanatismos contagiosos como la gripe. Tal vez recuerda a ese loquillo de bigote chistoso, pero que infundía miedo, reverencia y adoración sin límites. Una especie de dios que se creó desde una ideología.

Aquel loquillo del norte, tal vez tiene ese ideal, aunque sin tanto fanatismo, solo con violencia y el poder de las bombas y las balas que vuelan en nombre del loquillo, cambiando uno que otro régimen, unos caen, otros resisten la asfixia del loquillo que aprieta la garganta económica, siguen resistiendo, no por convicción, simplemente por orgullo y ego, sin importar lo que sufra la gente, el pueblo, aquel pueblo que juraron proteger con palabras falsas.

El loquillo sigue soltando sus bombas, sus discursos, un tanto atropellados, pero que generan miedo, precaución y en muchos casos sometimiento a pesar de...

Un loquillo que es rey, eso dicen, o tal vez se cree rey, nada de demócrata. Una corona que se ciñe en su sien, su imaginación divaga entre el dorado de una adoración real. ¿Será es su sueño? ¿Qué cucarachas andan por su mente? Muchos dictadores, muchos dirigentes, muchos fanáticos darían su vida al mundo del averno, por saber que pasa por aquella cabeza dorada, que secretos guarda para entender su accionar, su actuar atropellado.

Mientras tanto, el loquillo sigue peleando con todos, rojos, azules, blancos, oscuros, amarillos y todos aquellos que no hagan su voluntad, aquellos que no se pongan en su lado de la línea, sufrirán de las lanzas de sus palabras, que llevan consigo ultimátum, que llevan violencia, que llevan muerte, que llevan sufrimiento. Los que se envalentonaron acabaron mal o sufren por el poder del loquillo. Desde los aires decide el futuro de millones, en pro del beneficio propio, en beneficio de su dominio. Unos falsos héroes levantan la voz en contra de loquillo, pero cuando su voz retruena en sus tímpanos, se esconden dentro de sus cajas y miran para otro lado. Algunos dirían "diplomacia".

Mal o bien aquel loquillo dejara su huella en la historia, será recordado como un héroe o villano, depende del punto de vista. Eso sí, el loquillo sabe lo quiere e irá por ello cueste lo que cueste y tenga que pasar por quien sea. Ahora, el loquillo da media vuelta y se pierde entre las sombras con su gorra roja, que tiene una frase que tal vez cumpla o no, quien sabe, el tiempo lo dirá.

English

A guy who controls the world

A madman, a shrink, controls the world. A little fool is running amok, here, there. He says something and the world explodes. He says something and everyone is afraid. He says a lot of things, enough of which he gives to talk about.

He gets into chaos, he gets into apocalypse of fire. He looks at the world and aims at those who do not do his will. He explodes like a neutron bomb, his face turns red when he loses his temper, his fake hair flies through the air when he loses his temper.

His voice resounds through all the countries. He throws ultimatums left and right, the eyes of many come out of their sockets, some heads fly, governments fall, regimes become strong, others faint before his violent and authoritarian verb.

The loquillo is happy when his will is done, when his plans come to fruition. When he tries to organize a world with so many ideological nuances, so many points of view, so many ways of governing, perverse, corrupt, socialist, lying, extremist, idealistic, repressive and theological.

The loon wants to move everyone to his current, either by good intentions or with an immeasurable destructive force. Maybe the loquillo dreams of his ideal world, where everyone goes for the same side, where everyone does without opposing his will, maybe the loquillo thinks he is the king of the world.

Maybe El loquillo remembers another loquillo who wanted to conquer the world, in a distant past, in a past full of dead, millions and contagious fanaticism like the flu. Maybe he remembers that funny little guy with a mustache, but he instilled fear, reverence and adoration without limits. A kind of god that was created from an ideology.

That loquillo of the north, perhaps has that ideal, although without so much fanaticism, only with violence and the power of bombs and bullets that fly in the name of the loquillo, changing one regime after another, some fall, others resist the suffocation of the loquillo that tightens the economic throat, they continue to resist, not out of conviction, simply out of pride and ego, regardless of what the people suffer, the people, that people they swore to protect with false words.

The loquillo continues to drop his bombs, his speeches, somewhat run over, but that generate fear, caution and in many cases submission despite...

A loony who is a king, so they say, or maybe he thinks he's a king, nothing like a democrat. A crown that is cinched on her temple, her imagination wanders among the gilding of a royal worship. Will it be his dream? What cockroaches are running through your mind? Many dictators, many leaders, many fanatics would give their lives to the world of hell, to know what goes through that golden head, which keeps secrets to understand their actions, their trampled action.

Meanwhile, the loon continues to fight with everyone, red, blue, white, dark, yellow and all those who do not do his will, those who do not take his side of the line, will suffer from the spears of his words, which carry ultimatums, which carry violence, which carry death, which carry suffering. Those who were emboldened ended up badly or suffer because of the power of the loquillo. From the air he decides the future of millions, for his own benefit, for the benefit of his domain. Some fake heroes raise their voices against Loquillo, but when his voice echoes in their eardrums, they hide inside their boxes and look the other way. Some would say "diplomacy."

Either that little guy will leave his mark on history, he will be remembered as a hero or a villain, it depends on the point of view. Of course, the loquillo knows he wants it and will go for it no matter what it costs and has to go through whoever he is. Now, the loquillo turns around and gets lost in the shadows with his red cap, which has a phrase that maybe he will fulfill or not, who knows, time will tell.

Fuente de la imagen de portada:
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