Tale of the Brick Maker, of San Jeronimo, Peru [In English and Spanish]
Tale of the Brick Maker,
In the Andean mountains, within the
Mantaro Valley region of Peru,
village of San Jerónimo.
with bent-grass, and huge
And heading towards the ocean's coast.
The old man had hands like a farmer's
was raised on labor and ceaseless;
baked them, from nearby firewood, and found
each night into twilight.
And so Augusto lived, directing his
household somewhat apart from the village,
goodly acres of land; he now was a
Happy and healthy was he, an ox of a man
with leathered skin, and dark eyes;
Thus, at peace with God and man
I sat back in the Plaza de Arms, of Lima, Peru
listened to the tale of this old man,
told?these were days forlorn and desolate
asleep, he tried to make a living,
in those days, with naught in his pockets
He hadn't eaten for a few days, so the old
man said?, he was quite young back then;
elastic and descending were his legs,
in the city, now at trails end?
on some empty feverish steps, silent.
Moistening his lips, looking up, he saw---
(eyes half dead)
All was ended now, the hope that
an unsatisfying longing.
"Sir, can I help you? Why are you so sad?"
spoke the little ten year old.
not knowing what to say;
She said once more, to the bewildered
Hundreds of feet walked by, where she
stood, he sat, "Miss, I can't pay the rent!"
Within an hour's time, the little girl
paying the rent a month in advance?!
But this is not where the story ends my friend,
it was really just the beginning.
Wondered, and asked:
(all several of us now enchanted with his tale);
"What sir is so funny?"
and married her."
she had been long dead, and he missed her.
Translated by: Nancy Penaloza
Un Cuento del Ladrillero
De San Jerónimo de Tunán
En las montañas Andinas, dentro de la región
El anciano tenía manos como el de un agricultor
Y así, Augusto vivió, dirigiendo su
Feliz y saludable él era, como un buey era el hombre
Me senté de nuevo en la plaza de armas, de Lima, Perú
El no había comido durante unos días, eso el
Humedeciendo sus labios, mirando arriba, el vio
"¿Señor, puedo ayudarle? ¿Por qué esta usted tan triste?"
Cientos de pies andaban por ahí, donde ella
Pero esto no es donde termina la historia mi amigo,
Dennis Siluk, author and poet, web site http://dennissiluk.tripod.com he will be going to Peru for the presentation of his book, "Spell of the Andes," in October; he lives in Peru and Minnesota
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âHygienic Egg 2018: a focus on the Poetry of Deathâ brings dance, song and poetry to New London - theday.com
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Lima, City with the Stretched out WingsIt's an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sightJust dots of: red, green and white-white lightsAs the plane descends, descends, slides down On the long-drawn-out-spun-out lingering city of lights Uneven as a crumbled cake, lit up like a Christmas tree-The sleepless city, with its stretched out wingsStretching from the mountains to the sea- Winding through the valley's, forests, and streams Stretches, stretches its naked wings-endlesslyAs,I'm descending, down, over and around the city (descending, descending, and sliding to the ground)The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights Down, behind, around, the ground, it's immune to me I'm just part of its evening, a baptism in its inky seaInvisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infiniteUncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights; People: walking, talking, sleeping, eating by the dots People: waiting, killing, robbing, praying, by the dotsFor tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrowThey say-:you are ruthless, and I know this to be trueAnd they tell me you have thieves and murders-And this, I dare say-but shall-is also true, very true But show me a city to the contrary of eight-million-? I shake my fist and say: '?show me! But no one does'So alive, so brave, with strong and hungry hearts;I say, show me one that sings in poverty and smiles Prove me one that celebrates year-round of its heroes Show me painters that are as good-that sell on streets-As good as: Picasso, Dali, Rembrandt, and Yang YangAnd that welcomes the world with stretched out arms-Show me all this, or some of this, and I will say no moreWith this,I descend to its streets, its crowed winding streetsAs well as, to its neighborhoods with dust and soiled air, And hear the laughs of the children; the dogs on roofs Sights of the shoe-shiners: men and boys, in the parksAnd the numerous food carts; -- musicians, paper sellersAnd with its naked featherless wings, covering all-My Lima, Peru with its renowned Cathedral:Golden yellow with towering crowns, andWithin its plaza-square, a water fountain-celebrated.Under its sins, with its wrinkled aged men, lovely women,They all stand tall and bow to its Inca history, its glory- Its world that once ruled all, like the Roman Empire,Like the American Dream, they were the noble, the kingsAnd now, from drudgery and toil, sweat and strive, all, all Grinding, grinding away, each and everyday, lover of the, King of Kings: Jesus Christ-this is the Lima I know today; a mighty ship that has already sailed the seven seas, now resting!?Spanish VersionLima, La ciudad con las alas extendidas Translated by Rosa PeñalozaEsta es una noche oscura: no estrellas, ni luna a la vistaSolo puntos: rojo, verde y blanco-luces blancasMientras que el avión desciende, desciende, bajando A la larga-extendida-plana persistente ciudad de luces Plana como un panqueque, encendida como un árbol de navidad-La despierta ciudad, con sus alas extendidasExtendidas desde las montañas hacia el océano Zigzagueante a través de los valles, bosques y riachuelos Estirando, estirando sus alas desnudas-interminablesMientras,Voy descendiendo, abajo, por encima y alrededor de la ciudad (Descendiendo, descendiendo, y deslizándose a la tierra)La ciudad con las alas extendidas-y luces interminables Abajo, Abajo, detrás, alrededor, la tierra, es inmune a mí Sólo soy parte de esta noche, un bautizado en su oscuro océanoInvisible: gente, gatos, perros, pájaros, y ratas, infinidadIncontables: puntos, riachuelos de luz, puntos de luz; Gente: caminando, conversando, durmiendo, comiendo bajo los puntos de luz Gente: esperando, matando, robando, rezando bajo los puntos de luzPor mañana, mañana y otro mañanaEllos dicen--:Tu eres implacable, y yo se que esto es verdadY ellos me dicen tú tienes ladrones, y muertes-Y esto, me atrevo a decir, que esto también es cierto, muy ciertoPero muéstrame una ciudad de ocho millones contraria --? Sacudo mis puños y digo: "?muéstrame," pero nadie lo haceTan viva, tan valerosa, con corazones fuertes y hambrientos:Digo, muéstrame una que canta en pobreza, y sonríe Pruébame una como esa, que celebra alrededor del año a sus héroes Muéstrame pintores tan buenos-que venden en las calles-Tan buenos como: Picasso, Dali, Rembrant y Yang YangY que recibe al mundo con extendidos brazosMuéstrame todo esto, o algo de esto, y no diré masCon esto,Desciendo a sus calles, atiborrada, zigzagueantes callesAsí como su raro vecindario con polvo en el aire Y oigo la risa de los niños, los perros en los techos Vista de los lustrabotas, hombres y muchachos, en los parquesY los numerosos carros de comida, músicos y vendedores de periódicosY con su desnuda y desplumadas alas, cubriendo todo-Mi Lima, Perú, con su renombrada catedral:Amarilla dorada con su coronadas torres, yDentro de su plaza cuadrada, una celebrada piletaBajo su piel, con sus arrugados ancianos, tiernas mujeres,Todos ellos parados altos, y reverenciando a su historia inca, sugloria- Su mundo que una vez gobernó todo, como el Imperio RomanoComo el sueño de América, ellos fueron los nobles, los reyesY ahora de pesadez, y esfuerzo, sudor, lucha, todos, todos extenuados, fatigados, este y cada día, amantes del Rey de los Reyes: Jesucristo-esta es la Lima que conozco, hoy; un poderoso barco que ya navegó los siete mares, ahora descansando?Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, web site: http://dennissiluk.
Mechanical Poetry - Part Three
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start copying them.
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