I only have two weeks left in this beautiful Mexican land, still many old friends to meet, a few places to see and hopefully some more inspirational people to know.
Yo, como tú,
amo el amor, la vida, el dulce encanto
de las cosas, el paisaje
celeste de los días de enero.
También mi sangre bulle
y río por los ojos
que han conocido el brote de las lágrimas.
Creo que el mundo es bello,
que la poesía es como el pan, de todos.
Y que mis venas no terminan en mí
sino en la sangre unánime
de los que luchan por la vida,
el amor,
las cosas,
el paisaje y el pan,
la poesía de todos.
I thought I would have been able to write down my thoughts, reflections and emotions in this blog, but I've finally realised I need more time to process words and ideas - I'm not a writer after all... and switching from a language to another one doesn't help my writing brain, in fact.
The sparse notes I wrote in the few solitary moments are also crap, so I wanted to read a bit more, more poetry above all.
Because poetry is less of a commitment than a novel, there's no character to get attached to, if you don't understand it, it doesn't matter: it is invention, words put next to each other to create new images and situations. A passionate glimpse into intense and universal emotions.
And the other night, moved by beautiful three days spent amongst amazing and inspiring people, I was looking for words to express my feelings - a positive mix of excitement, rage and hope - until I opened the thin poetry booklet I got for the remaining weeks of travel and there it was, the poem that exactly described how I was feeling that night:
Como tú
Roque Dalton García
Yo, como tú,
amo el amor, la vida, el dulce encanto
de las cosas, el paisaje
celeste de los días de enero.
También mi sangre bulle
y río por los ojos
que han conocido el brote de las lágrimas.
Creo que el mundo es bello,
que la poesía es como el pan, de todos.
Y que mis venas no terminan en mí
sino en la sangre unánime
de los que luchan por la vida,
el amor,
las cosas,
el paisaje y el pan,
la poesía de todos.
Like You
by Roque Dalton, translated by Jack Hirschman
by Roque Dalton, translated by Jack Hirschman
Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-
blue landscape of January days.
And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-
blue landscape of January days.
And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.
