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Monday, August 26, 2013

When You Can't Explain It, Sing It!


I'm loving this song right now because it expresses poetically the way my husband is feeling. Here's my inadequate translation:

"Provincia de Río Negro" 
Manolo García

I’ve seen the province of Río Negro reflected
in your lake system gaze.
I’ve seen the flight of the white shadow,
a chain that moors a traveler who doesn’t want to go home.
Your Basque grandfather was a shepherd in Patagonia.
I’ve touched your meadow hair,
I’ve held your copper-colored thatch hands.
Hung up on sheepskin fleeces,
trembling tendrils on golden fields,
on the windy, soft afternoon of the earth.
Like foam on the crests of some earthen waves
shimmering in your sea of pampas grass.
Ooh, I’m leaving now. Ooh, here I am.

When I come back, I find myself frozen stiff with nostalgia
on this impossible highway.
Under the private smoke from the thousand chimneys
of the new development on the edge of the city,
we move along at infernal speeds
on machines with wheels — and I can’t get used to it —
to come together like a plague of locusts
at the same times, in the same places.
So I feel I’m wasting my life here,
that I only want to hold
your copper-thatch hands in mine.
Ooh, I’m leaving now. Ooh, here I am.
Hung up on sheepskin fleeces,
Trembling whiteness on golden fields
on the windy, soft afternoon of the earth.
Like foam on the crests of a few eternal waves
shimmering in a sea of pampas grass.
Ooh, I’m leaving now. Ooh, here I am.
Ooh, I’m leaving now. Ooh, here I am.

Put simply: my husband knows there's something better out there. Even more simply: he's fed up.

Call it a mid-life crisis. Call it 30 years of bouncing around doing work that vexes his soul. Whatever it is, I think we're on the verge of a life-changing decision. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, the Clear Your Shelf giveaway hop is still going on, so get your entries in there while you can!