Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Monday, October 31, 2016

Morbid poetry for Halloween!

Yo quiero un mapa
de viaje inesperada,
del tipo que fanteseaba
cuando era optimista.

Las fronteras rodearán
un espacio puro blanco,
o sea, vacio, como sueños
que se quedan no deseados.

Cuando trece yo tenía
todas cosas yo merecían.
Y todo descubriá
por la fuerza de fantasia.

Pero ahora con edad
me alegría tener solo
visión no prevista.
No me importa el lugar.

Cuando me muera,
solo debajo la tierra
sin guía ni pareja y
andaré nunca más.

No me importa adónde
mis huesos  estarán
mientras los gusanos comen
un cerebro bien viajado.

---------

I want a map
of an unanticipated journey,
the kind I used to fantasize about
back when I was optimistic.

The borders will surround
a blank white space,
that is to say, empty,
like dreams that stay unwanted.

When I was thirteen
I deserved everything.
And I discovered everything 
through the force of fantasy. 

 But now that I am older,
the only thing that would please me
would be an unforeseen vision.
The location doesn't matter to me.

When I die
I will leave the earth on my own,
without guide or partner, and 
I will wander nevermore. 

It matters not to me
where my bones end up
so long as the worms can eat
of a well-traveled brain.

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Gratis para la gente que no puede leer

Una voluntaria
salió de la República
y dejó en la acera
afuera de su casa
dos sillas plásticas en una pila.

En esos lo
puso un letrero.
¿Qué dijó?
Te digo:

-Gratis para la gente que no puede leer.

Dos primos Dominicanos
quienes estaban paseando
(Sus nombres eran Randrika y Romeano)
vieron la pila y el letrero.
-¿Qué dices? preguntó el varón primo
a su prima alfabeta.

Y en voz alta Randrika lo leyó
a tu primo Romeano:

-Gratis para la gente que no puede leer.

La jóven bien educada pensó 
tan grosero el letrero, pero
a su primo no lo molestó.
-Perfecto, el tiguere dijó.

-A ti una silla doy.
Vamos a tu casa y luego me voy.

La pobrecita voluntaria de educación
despidió a su sitio con mucha decepción. 
Pero el letrero, su última lección,
enseña que todavía hay cosas que son
gratis para la gente que no puede leer.

---

"Free for People Who Can't Read."

A volunteer left the Republic
and left on the sidewalk outside her house
two plastic chairs in a pile.

On those she hung a sign.
What did it say? I'll tell you:

"Free for people who can't read."

Two Dominican cousins were walking by
(their names were Randrika and Romeano)
and saw the sign and pile.
"What's it say?" the male cousin asked
his literate female cousin.

And to her cousin Romeano
Randrika read in full voice:

"Free for people who can't read."

The well-educated young woman
thought the sign was very rude but
it didn't bother her cousin.
"Perfect," said the tiguere*.

"I'll give you a chair.
Let's take it to your house
and then I'm out of here."

The poor education volunteer
bid farewell to her site
with feelings of great disappointment.
But the sign, her last lesson,
teaches that some things still are
free for people who can't read.








*A word in Dominican Spanish with no direct translation. It comes from the word tigre ("tiger") and is used to describe a person with street smarts.