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Monday, April 25, 2011

Poetry for Mother Earth

I missed April 22 because we had a literarily great anniversary to celebrate, but I would like to nod to my favorite Spanish poet, Manolo García, and present his "Sabrás que andar es un sencillo vaivén" with my humble interpretation in English to start off Translation Week. Here, García's love for nature comes through loud and clear.



Sabrás que andar es un sencillo vaivén 
from Saldremos a la lluvia (2008)

Nacer, vivir, los rostros anhelantes,
los gestos ávidos de vida.
Lo veo en las calles,
en el tiempo detenido.
Vivir, crecer expuestos al amor.
Expuestos al llanto, a la nostalgia,
a la risa y al dolor.
Dispuestos para cada instante
que amamos la vida.

Vivir para amar,
un soplo de brisa. La vida.
Cualquier forma de vida.
En la lucha desigual
en un mundo que naufragará
si no defendemos cualquier forma
de vida natural.

Si no me inquieta
un mundo asfaltado, sin vida.

Sabré que andar, sentir,
es un sencillo vaivén.
Y a ratos, alejarme de mí
hará más liviano el peso de mis alforjas.

Sabrás que despertar
a ese sencillo vaivén
tan sólo es respirar y dejarse llevar
en los ánades migrando, en un manzano
o en la grandiosidad de un iceberg.

Nacer, vivir. Destello, extravío. La vida,
el tirón de la vida.
Lo veo en la gente,
en el tiempo presente.
Celeste cuerpo, amor de fogón.
Expuestos al quebranto, a la perfidia,
al goce y al perdón.
Dispuestos para cada instante de hambre
de vida.

Sabré que andar, sentir,
es ir más lento, parar.
Y a ratos desprenderse, que al fin
pureza del aire colma el pecho y las ansias.

Sabré que despertar
a ese sencillo vaivén
es lento; es arribar a serenos confines
en papeleo de mariposas, hacia un fiordo
o en el cobalto azul del huracán

 You’ll Find that Walking is a Simple Rhythm
Being born, living, faces full of longing,
with expressions eager for life.
I see it in the streets,
in stopped time.
We’re all living, growing, exposed to love.
Exposed to crying, to nostalgia,
to laughter and to pain.
Willing for every moment
that we love life.

Living to love,
a blowing breeze. Life.
Any form of life
in the pitched battle
in a world that will sink
if we don’t champion every life form
in nature.

If a paved over, lifeless world fails to worry me.

I’ll find that walking, feeling,
is a simple rhythm.
And at times, leaving myself behind
will make my baggage lighter.

You’ll find that waking up
to that simple rhythm
is just breathing and letting yourself be carried away
by ducks migrating, by an apple tree
or by the grandiosity of an iceberg.

Being born, living. A sparkle, a detour. Life,
the pull of life.
I see it in people,
in the present time.
Celestial body, love of the campfire.
Exposed to damage, to treachery,
to enjoyment and to forgiveness.
Willing for every moment, hungry for life.

I’ll find that walking, feeling,
is slowing down, stopping.
And at times becoming detached, since in the end
pure air satisfies lungs and anxiety.

I’ll know that waking up
to that simple rhythm
is slow; it’s arriving at serene limits
in a whirl of butterflies, towards a fjord
or in the cobalt blue of a hurricane.