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 armonizar�, dentro de las Monta�as- �Dentro de las sombras finas M�s d�biles De las monta�as!

Como el musgo de las piedras Humedecidas

Como una hoja echada a volar Lejos de casa

(Reci�n ca�da)

Yo armonizar�, adhiri�ndome A las monta�as- Dentro de sus sombras Finas m�s d�biles

2) Battle of Ollantayambo

In Ollantayambo- Thousands of warriors crowed the terraces, To repel Herrando Pizarro’s attack-; Among them, Manco Inca appeared On horseback, with a lance in his hand Horrifying, Pizarro’s unsuccessful advance.

6/30/05 #745

In Spanish

Batalla de Ollantaytambo

En Ollantaytambo- Miles de soldados llenaban las terrazas, Para rechazar el ataque de Pizarro-; Entre ellos, apareci� Manco Inca Montado en su caballo, con una lanza en su mano Horrorizando, el fracasado avance de Pizarro.

6/30/05 #745

3) Cesar Vallejo’s: Feasible of Black Roses

Bow down your head ol’ poet- To face God’s grace ahead There are no more trenches

To dig today? In the forest of your head,

So-: Bow down, bow down,

Ol’ barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the crazed eyes of death.

He summons you to his den- The devil and his wind,

So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood stained brows He will take you to the edge.

Closer, closer, I see you now Eh! a moving satanic cloud- I see a festival of black-roses, I hear clamor in the crowd.

Bow down, bow down, Ol’ poet ?I hear your applause!

#666 [5/15/2005] In English only

Dennis Siluk http://dennissiluk.tripod.com