|
|
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
Tale of the Brick Maker,
Of San Jer?nimo, Peru
[A Cup of Sorrow]
-1
In the Andean mountains, within the
Mantaro Valley region of Peru,
Isolated, secluded, tranquil, is the little
village of San Jer?nimo.
Near the village, here lay the fertile valley
with bent-grass, and huge
Mountains stretching northbound,
And heading towards the ocean's coast.
The old man had hands like a farmer's
was raised on labor and ceaseless;
He made bricks from the mountain's clay,
baked them, from nearby firewood, and found
Serenity from the suns rays, as it sank
each night into twilight.
And so Augusto lived, directing his
household somewhat apart from the village,
Not a wealthy man, a brick maker, with
goodly acres of land; he now was a
Man of four and eighty winters, resting.
Happy and healthy was he, an ox of a man
with leathered skin, and dark eyes;
Yet how delicately they shinned.
Thus, at peace with God and man
and himself; the old brick maker.
-2
I sat back in the Plaza de Arms, of Lima, Peru
listened to the tale of this old man,
And his Bride of long ago?a story never before
told?these were days forlorn and desolate
Night after night, when the city was
asleep, he tried to make a living,
But it seemed like the sun was always dark
in those days, with naught in his pockets
But a twig from a branch of a tree.
He hadn't eaten for a few days, so the old
man said?, he was quite young back then;
Wandering the streets, the quiet way,
elastic and descending were his legs,
As if they were broken wings,. No jobs
in the city, now at trails end?
He needed a friend?thus he sat down
on some empty feverish steps, silent.
Moistening his lips, looking up, he saw---
(eyes half dead)
A little girl's face looking down at him.
All was ended now, the hope that
Might had been; now restless; a vanished vision;
an unsatisfying longing.
"Sir, can I help you? Why are you so sad?"
spoke the little ten year old.
A dull deep pain, reached Augusto's lips,
not knowing what to say;
And did it matter anyway, "Eh!" he replied.
She said once more, to the bewildered
Man, "Ssir, why are you so sad?"
Hundreds of feet walked by, where she
stood, he sat, "Miss, I can't pay the rent!"
Embarrassed, deep-voiced, he looked back down.
Within an hour's time, the little girl
Was back, full of life, and with a check?
paying the rent a month in advance?!
-3
But this is not where the story ends my friend,
it was really just the beginning.
As the old man in the park, sat back, we all
Wondered, and asked:
What ever happened to the little girl?
(all several of us now enchanted with his tale);
But he just laughed?. Said I,
"What sir is so funny?"
He replied: "I came back, six years later,
and married her."
And you could see the twinkle in his eyes, for
she had been long dead, and he missed her.
And that was all he said?.
#757 7/10/05
Spanish Version
Translated by: Nancy Penaloza
Edited by: Rosa Penaloza
Un Cuento del Ladrillero
De San Jer?nimo de Tun?n
1
En las monta?as Andinas, dentro de la regi?n
Del Valle del Mantaro de Per?,
Encerrado, aislado, tranquilo, est? el peque?o
Pueblo de San Jer?nimo.
Cerca al pueblo, aqu? descansa el valle f?rtil
Con franjas verdes, y enormes
Monta?as estir?ndose desplaz?ndose hacia el norte,
y encabezando hacia la costa del oc?ano.
El anciano ten?a manos como el de un agricultor
Fue enaltecido en el trabajo e incesante;
El hizo ladrillos con la arcilla de la monta?a,
Coci?ndolos con le?a en un cercano horno, y encontr?
La serenidad de los rayos del sol, as? como estos se hund?an
Cada noche dentro del crep?sculo.
Y as?, Augusto vivi?, dirigiendo su
Casa algo aparte de su pueblo,
No un hombre rico, un ladrillero, con
Preciosos acres de tierra; ?l era ahora un
Hombre de 84 inviernos, descansando.
Feliz y saludable ?l era, como un buey era el hombre
Con la piel curtida, y ojos oscuros;
Todav?a cu?n delicadamente ellos brillaban.
As?, en paz con Dios y el hombre
Y el mismo; el viejo ladrillero.
2
Me sent? de nuevo en la plaza de armas, de Lima, Per?
Escuchando el cuento de este viejo hombre,
Y su novia de hace mucho... Una historia nunca antes
Contada? estos fueron d?as desesperados y desolados
Noche tras noche, cuando la ciudad estaba
Dormida, ?l trataba de ganarse la vida,
Pero parec?a como si el sol estuviera siempre oscuro
En aquellos d?as, con cero en sus bolsillos
Pero con una ramita de la rama del ?rbol.
El no hab?a comido durante unos d?as, eso el
anciano dijo..., ?l era bastante joven entonces;
Peregrinando por las calles, de forma tranquila
El?sticas y ca?das eran sus piernas,
Como si fueran alas rotas. Sin trabajo
en la ciudad, ahora en caminos finales?
El necesitaba un amigo?por eso ?l se sent?
sobre algunas gradas febriles, silencio.
Humedeciendo sus labios, mirando arriba, el vio
(ojos medio muertos)
Una carita de ni?a mir?ndolo
Todo hab?a acabado ahora, la esperanza que
podr?a haber sido; ahora inquieta, una visi?n esfumada;
un deseo poco satisfactorio
"?Se?or, puedo ayudarle? ?Por qu? esta usted tan triste?"
dijo la peque?a de 10 a?os de edad.
Un dolor embotado profundo, alcanzo los labios de Augusto,
no sabiendo que decir;
?Y eso importaba de cualquier manera? "Eh" ?l respondi?
Ella dijo una vez mas, para el desconcierto del
Hombre "?Ssse?or porque est? tan triste?"
Cientos de pies andaban por ah?, donde ella
estuvo de pie, ?l sentado dijo, "se?orita, no puedo pagar la renta"
Avergonzado, con voz muy profunda, ?l miro hacia abajo.
Dentro de un tiempo aproximado de una hora, la peque?a ni?a
Estuvo de regreso, llena de vida, y con un cheque...
Pagando la renta un mes adelantado...!
3
Pero esto no es donde termina la historia mi amigo,
Esto fue realmente justo el comienzo.
Mientras el viejo hombre en el parque, sentado, todos
Maravillados y preguntando:
?Que le hab?a pasado a la peque?a ni?a?
(Todos nosotros ahora encantados con su cuento);
Pero ?l solo sonri?... Dije yo,
"?Qu? es tan gracioso se?or?"
El contest?: "regres?, seis a?os despu?s
y me cas? con ella."
Y tu pod?as ver el centelleo en sus ojos, porque
Ella ya hab?a muerto, y ?l la extra?aba.
Y eso fue todo lo que dijo...
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


Black Blood, in Jeremiah's Vines [A Dream Poem]And I heard the crackling of wood, and I noticed the Lord God had made men of wood, and fire came from his mouth.Then the wind... Read More
She probably can't remember and I know I can never forget...the first time I saw her like that I was only nine years-oldnot naive by any stretchhaving seen my share of tragedy-my parent's... Read More
My eyes opened. I am still alive; Living on planet earth. Though unconscious for many hours; Unaware of existence, Unknowing of life, Incognizant of humanity Living in a space of void, Resident... Read More
There are many times I set up barriers and walls, invisible unless you come too close, And then you hit them.You wonder what happened.You didn't know, I can't let you in.I've lost the... Read More
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... Read More
Bells for Belphegor!...Where immortal veils never meet Belphegor, Arch devil speaks: In vagaries form, With signs and signatures not yet born-; The Tagaririm, order of the demon: They come to meet, the King... Read More
As I picked up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the stones looked like before they were polished. The store had several rocks on... Read More
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold sleepless nights,endless days of discomfort.For those who have endured the... Read More
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)In what retreat art hid?-Where falling mountains groan In shadow and amongThe rapids of the Rio? Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the footprints of the Andes--?I can... Read More
No one should have to beg or crawl before humanity. No one should have to scheme to procure philanthropy.No one should be outcast for simply being different. No one should be found... Read More
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they say When don Simon Bolivar Slept in the arms of beautiful -Luisa Crober (of Jamaica); thus an Assassin missed his mark When... Read More
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not... Read More
Have you ever sat there staring at the paper, ready to write, but unsure where to begin? Want a solution that will overcome even the worst writer's block? Anyone can start writing poetry... Read More
1)dying in the bar [sluggishly]yet, I would crawl too upto the bar, it was everything, the dampness the carved wood the zoned-out-ness in my head dreaming; it was better than death? then I... Read More
I am among those who know that one never recovers from the loss of one deeply loved. We come to accept the death and adjust our lives - rather begrudingly, but we do... Read More
In the Mountains of Haiti(In the City)-July is a hot month-sweating Poverty out on every street (In Port de Prince); mixingMemory with desire causes stirring. Not much rain in Haiti (in 1986);... Read More
I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I THOUGHT TO SEND A... Read More
"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry for a plethora of reasons, but this article has a sharpened arrowhead aimed directly at the fingertips of amateur poets who wish to... Read More
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to always bein a state of disarray... Without you here by my side to hold my hand and be my guide... I feel like... Read More
Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go. Go where you must But hate to do so. Azra, it hurts me to say, But you are the... Read More
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were playing cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distance Was his sidekick,... Read More
We were exiled from the Garden of Eden. Its sinless wonders nevermore to regain. So every man on life's toilsome journey, Must enter the valley of pain.We don't enter because of desire... Read More
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... Read More
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the proper word: witty, but it will do): one poem on the Aztec year 2012, a year that has been in the public's... Read More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and vision bleary, all night sat there writing COBOL, coding spread across the bed sheets, changing syntax for the mainframe, having checked... Read More
What do you do when you want to write poetry? I hope your answer is "I start writing." Even writing a bad poem is better than waiting for the "right words." You can... Read More
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept. 5, 2004This poem was written for Ed Gallagher, a good friend and neighbour on the day his wife called me to let me know that he... Read More
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine... Read More
So many looked to you for inspiration,Unlikely hero for the wheelchair nation.Proudly you fought and proudly you believed,Everyone loved you Christopher Reeve.Readily it seemed you accepted your fate,Man you are super..man you are... Read More
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling on the road of goodbye. Bittersweet tears fall as I think of all the places I'll never see, all the... Read More
Have you ever thought about how nice it would be to see your poem discussed in the New York Times? Think you have what it takes to become a famous poet? Well the... Read More
Learn about love by reading poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for ancient texts hidden in caves...Search the Net.In this modern age of technology, busy lifestyles, and... Read More
Rhymes of an Ordnance Man [Vietnam War: 1971]An eleven part poem By Dennis L. SilukI had went to Vietnam at the age of 23 [1971], and it was most interesting, there were 205,000... Read More
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up trying to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls against the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to... Read More
Like a cat I slumber, blissfully unencumbered, Through eighty per cent of my allotted span, Occasionally awoken, when dissent is spoken, And I invent another cunning five year plan, Lately it was pensions,... Read More
Ded?cate to Antonio Castillo. L. Of. Los Andes UniversitarioOde to:The Ice Maiden Of Ampato's SummitEnglish VersionPart One The ClimbIn the spring of my life, in my villageBy the Andes, I awoke one morningTo... Read More
You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares me. I never wanted to trust again that much I got hurt too badly the last time. I swore I'd never do it... Read More
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the forest of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet!... Read More
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they say When don Simon Bolivar Slept in the arms of beautiful -Luisa Crober (of Jamaica); thus an Assassin missed his mark When... Read More
"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry for a plethora of reasons, but this article has a sharpened arrowhead aimed directly at the fingertips of amateur poets who wish to... Read More
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to always bein a state of disarray... Without you here by my side to hold my hand and be my guide... I feel like... Read More
The following two poems, one in English, the other in English and Spanish were done during this ongoing trip in Peru, while in Lima, although the poem concerning: Chan Chan was oriinally started... Read More
Explore the meaning of poetry and the motivation of poets with this special collection of evocative quotations..."A poet is someone who is astonished by everything."-- Anonymous"Reality only reveals itself when it is illuminated... Read More
You've been writing poetry since that first assignment in your high school writing class. You know the rules about writing poetry, right? Are there rules? Well, if you frequent the poetry forums across... Read More
Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that reputable literary journals publish, entails knowing exactly what each word of a poem does to the reader. A good poem should be evocative, skillful, and... Read More
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not... Read More
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept. 5, 2004This poem was written for Ed Gallagher, a good friend and neighbour on the day his wife called me to let me know that he... Read More
You make me smile like I've seldom done before You give me a reason to want more and more...Of you - of us any time - any where It doesn't matter as long... Read More
#25The King and Delka [Split Mawkishness-on Moiromma /Part V]Sickly SentimentalityI have sought out friends Only to find rawness Of their passion; And the uniformity Of their vision.Who out there can know My cerebral... Read More
Part oneI see them in the skies I hear them in their hells They whisper and they moanAnd never are alone- The Spirits and the Ghouls? The Spirits de Copan!They are shadows in... Read More
Since my wife and I are moving, or preparing to move, we've been going through our things as most people must, to prepare for the new location, and in doing so, I found... Read More
What Hides behind the Minute?What hides behind the minute? It seems, no one really knows; How many times will we wakeup, To count the minutes gone?The rose was dead when I arrived; The... Read More
What do you do when you want to write poetry? I hope your answer is "I start writing." Even writing a bad poem is better than waiting for the "right words." You can... Read More
Iquitos & the Amazon Part OneIt was December 2, l959, I was sitting on a small prop-plane leaving Iquitos, Peru for a trip down the Amazon toward the opening, the mouth of the... Read More
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold sleepless nights,endless days of discomfort.For those who have endured the... Read More
Have you ever experienced infatuation with someone you know is not a good match for you? Or how about an interesting relationship that roots itself deep in your memory... Here's my double take... Read More
The Incubus' Flash-lightHe looked inside my head And found a dreamHe didn't like-;As I looked back at him, I found an incubus Shinning a light(and stole this poem from him-last night).Thoughts: Dreams and... Read More
Tale of the Brick Maker, Of San Jer?nimo, Peru [A Cup of Sorrow]-1In the Andean mountains, within theMantaro Valley region of Peru, Isolated, secluded, tranquil, is the littlevillage of San Jer?nimo.... Read More
| GOOGLE AD |
Poetry Poetry |