This Friday my parents and I celebrate the 40th anniversary of our arrival in the U.S.
Celebrate is an odd word to describe how I feel about this milestone.
Celebrate because of the wonderful, new life that I have in the U.S. This country opened up its doors, and the people here opened up their hearts, to welcome a ragged group of Cuban refugees seeking a new life here.
Celebrate because life in the U.S., with all of its faults, warts, problems, issues, etc., is far better than life in other parts of the world (and I do speak with people from all over the world) and it is certainly far, far better than life under the castro regime would have ever been.
Celebrate because I met my wife here, had my children here and began my professional career here.
But just like survivors of the Holocaust feel guilt for surviving (and yet, in spite of what revisionists, and other haters, would like to believe the Holocaust did happen and it was probably far more horrible than we could ever imagine) I will always feel guilty that I was able to make it and escape the morally bankrupt and bloody clutches of Communism. Not a day goes by that I do not feel "survivor's guilt" and I think about the family members that we left behind. And not a day goes by that I do not feel guilty about not taking up arms against Communism.
Anyway, I have now lived in the U.S. for far longer time than I ever lived in Cuba. And although in my head and heart I am 100% American, in my soul I will always be Cubano!
Thanks for letting me get that off. Gracias.
CUANDO SALI DE CUBA
Nunca podré morirme,
mi corazón no lo tengo aquí.
Alguien me está esperando,
me está aguardando que vuelva aquí.
Cuando salí de Cuba,
dejé mi vida dejé mi amor.
Cuando salí de Cuba,
dejé enterrado mi corazón.
Late y sigue latiendo
porque la tierra vida le da,
pero llegará un dia
en que mi mano te alcanzará.
Cuando...
Una triste tormenta
te está azotando sin descansar
pero el sol de tus hijos
pronto la calma te hará alcanzar
Cuando...
Cuando...
Deje enterrado mi corazón,
mi corazón, mi corazón.
Translation...
WHEN I LEFT CUBA
I will never be able to die,
I do not have my heart here.
Something is waiting for me,
It is waiting for my return.
When I left Cuba,
I left my life I left my love.
When I left Cuba,
I left buried my heart.
It never stops beating, calling out to me
Because the soil sustains it life,
But the day will come,
When my hand will reach you.
When…
A sad storm,
is whipping through your land not letting you rest
But your children's sun
will soon reach you and calm you once again.
When…
When…
I left my heart buried, my heart, my heart.