Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
March 6, 2010
1) Shadows of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]
I shall blend-in, into the
Mountains- Into the faintest thin
Shadows
of the mountains! Like the moss on moistened
Stone
Like a leaf blown far from
Home?
(freshly fallen)!
I shall blend-in, clinging
To the mountains- Into its faintest thin
Shadows
Note: when I arrived back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove through the Andes. Upon my arrival home, I told my wife, perhaps a week or two thereafter, "We are going to go there and live." Thus, we sold everything, and our home in Minnesota, and purchased a condo in the Andes, and now it is all history.
Sombras de los Andes
Yo armonizaré, dentro de las Montañas- ¡Dentro de las sombras finas Más débiles De las montañas!
Como el musgo de las piedras Humedecidas
Como una hoja echada a volar Lejos de casa
(Recién caída)
Yo armonizaré, adhiriéndome A las montañas- Dentro de sus sombras Finas más débiles
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The Lull of Twilight [Over Mantaro Valley] In English and Spanish
February 28, 2010
Twilight, was now beginning. As for
the sun, it was down-down over the Mantaro Valley of Peru. The softness of the Valley’s mist, covered everything; from the Andes to the Valley?and through
(then I noticed)
?the color of charcoal blended into earth
and sky-; ebbing between this was the mystery of twilight (the parting of day, for the birth of night); where little, to nothing was said-where motion was almost dead (between man and beast); but not nature!
‘Tis a time unto itself-between calm and
caution, silent oblivion and night; even the shadows and shades surrender, mind- to-mind with their earthy hoists, for a moment?.
‘Tis the moment of sunset, when light
is thin and narrow, and shadows emerge; thus, day and night become one -with two-natures; stretched-out, glowing above and within the horizon.
The twittering of birds, the rustle of trees,
children readying for sleep-; an overall stagnation in life, comes over the valley, even the spirits stand still in abnormal silence, and gaze.
Three Poems: Dona Leonors Revenge; The Old Moon; Common Sides [All in Spanish/all in English]
February 22, 2010
1) Doña Leonor’s Revenge [1627 AD]
Rafael Ortiz’s fate Was on the plate Of Doña Leonor’s
When she arrived In Lima, Peru; To taste revenge
For the beheading Of her husband. And so the plot
?was now played out (in an alleyway) As she gutted her trout!
In Spanish
Translated by Nancy Penaloza
La leyenda de: La venganza de doña Leonor (1627 después de cristo)
El destino de Rafael Ortiz Estaba sobre el plato De doña Leonor.
Cuando ella llegó A Lima Perú; Para saborear la venganza
Por la decapitación De su esposo. Y entonces el complot
Fue llevado a su fin ahora (En un callejón) Como ella destripó su trucha!
2) The Old Moon
The winds, the winds-moments pass Pass into years, years and more years And the moon continues to make light Upon me, with eerie fearless nights?
Under its passing shadows at twilight She stands alone, looking into my eyes; At dusk, we linger on, down the path Like live sphinxes?she follows me:
Looking, looking down, down at me?.
A Hundred and Fifty Dead [Korean War–l952]
February 16, 2010
There I sat, ninety-five degree weather
Outside; the bookstore café, was cool.
An Old Timer stood by me, explaining:
"There were two-hundred of us on the Island,
Near North Korea, back in ‘52-
We guarded 16,000-prisners?
"All of a sudden, all hell broke loose
Three-hundred North Koreans came
Over the bob-wired fence, in pursuit
"It all happened in a matter of seconds
The machineguns killed 150-of them
That’s all I saw in the war of ‘52.
(One American wounded one concussion.)
"Now we had to fingerprint them all!"
The old timer said; exhaustedly;
As if he was to do it all over again?
But they were just old memories unearthed;
Resurrected for a moment, from the
Sands of that little horse-shoe island.
"But I guess I’ll never forget," he said with
No regrets!… as he moved on looking
For his table, where he left his coffee.
#762 7/15/05
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast
February 12, 2010
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]
?wind was blowing furiously It never left for a moment Bursts of fury I found it difficult to keep My feet placed, thus, I clung to my knees For one blissful moment I could not now disguise it From myself Some subtle feeling Manifested itself Then the current drew Sharply away from me With her mystery-
Back out into the open sea Yet-, still it roared back at me! It was an expressed release It made my head swim I noticed it kept-step With my exultation!?
#761 7/14/2005
Notes: There are mysteries to the sea, at times it seems as to have its own mind, its own character; as if nature was plugged into all that exist. Earth itself being an entity with its own lively soul. We all seem to be somehow connected do we not, to the sea, to its ghosts that live within it; to the earth that holds it, and its atmosphere about us that seems to a balance between man, nature and space. Even the moon has its duties to the earth, and man, to protect us from harmful elements. Who gave them such a command? Someday it wall all fly into space, the oceans and all, and earth knows it, and wants to share with us-as it is part of us-its accommodating mystery, while time lasts.
Feelings, O How Glorious!
February 5, 2010
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs against the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.
Sometimes we feel fierce anger At those who misuse guns; Sometimes we feel ashamed Of how we treat God’s little ones.
Sometimes we feel excited, As when a birthday nears; Sometimes we feel withdrawn And retreat to inner spheres.
Sometimes we feel so lonely, Without a friend or foe; Sometimes we feel confused, Can’t decide which way to go.
Sometimes we feel too sensitive, Weep over some small thing; Sometimes we feel quite infantile And desire pampering.
Sometimes we feel depressed, Lost in pity and despair; Sometimes we feel great serenity, Strolling the beach somewhere.
Sometimes we feel deep hurt When treated loathingly; Sometimes we feel frustration, When given the third degree.
Sometimes we feel divine, Spiritually renewed; Sometimes we feel tranquil, Relaxed in solitude.
Sometimes we feel loving, Wanting to kiss and hug; Sometimes we feel defiant Must resist an all out tug.
Sometimes we feel deep grief, When someone we loved has died; Sometimes we feel outraged, When our rights have been denied.
The Game of Life
January 30, 2010
When your life becomes unbearable And the light of promise ceases to glow, When all your dreams and aspirations Lie dormant on ambition’s death row.
When you feel that all is hopeless, Life troubles just seem to abound. When those you thought were supporters Are suddenly nowhere to be found;
When weary from the struggle of trying And you wonder to yourself, “What’s the use?” You fight on to do the best that you can But once again, all hell breaks loose.
When things in your life become disjointed And everything you touch turns stale. When nerves are on edge from life’s pressures, And there’s no breath with which to exhale.
When the road you are traveling gets bumpy And the hills become harder to climb, When the going gets tougher and tougher And persist for a considerably long time.
Remember, it’s not what you expect from life, But rather, what life expects from you. When the wind of quandary blows your way, Life wants to see just how well you’ll do.
You see, life is really like playing a game. To win, you must play as it dictates. If you follow its built-in survival rules, Your troubles will miraculously dissipate.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
January 27, 2010
It Was Not Me
January 27, 2010
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then. It was then when God was truly in me. When God was in me, I was a young man. A young man with hope, will and desire. Desire to give my love and the gift of God to the ones in need. You see, that was me.
Thus, it was not me who hurt you so, But it was me as I was then. It was then when God was not in me. That is when I hurt you though.
Now I can really see it was not me, who scarred you so. Your innocence, your trust in me, the weak moment in your life, Was abused by me. But that was not really me.
You have to see it was not me as I was before, Or as I am now, Or as I will ever be. No! It was not me! It was he who was not me. It was he who will never be me. It was he and me who hurt you so. No! It was not really me, who hurt you.
Life is a Fantasy
January 23, 2010
LIFE IS A FANTASY!
A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy white
Hops in bedrooms filled with fright
A child of six with much to know
Her father’s basest feelings show
She knows of LOVE, only through him
He satisfies his every whim
He leaves, she wipes him
from her chin!
Her mother NEEDS to see the best
He answered her God request
To have a roof to comfort bring
A yard where all the birdies sing
Tell me how she could really know
What source for learning could she go?
Her mother regularly beaten if not worse
The cycle of violence ? a woman’s curse
Conflicting visions, dependencies
One can endure many idiosyncrasies
She could not make him defendant be
Denial, avoidance? she disbelieves
The rabbit hides beneath tall trees.
At thirteen a step-grandfatha’
Finds a well-trained girl that oughta’
Do what powerful men request
Never knowing what is best
And run away she does at last
Freedom can be such a ‘blast’
A rabbit’s foot upon a chain
The FANTASY her ’safe’ domain
