![]() |
Poetry Information |
|
|
Lima, City with the Stretched out Wings [In English and Spanish]
Lima, It's an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sight Just dots of: red, green and white-white lights As the plane descends, descends, slides down The sleepless city, with its stretched out wings Stretching from the mountains to the sea- As, I'm descending, down, over and around the city The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights Invisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infinite Uncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights; For tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow They say-: you are ruthless, and I know this to be true And they tell me you have thieves and murders- And this, I dare say-but shall-is also true, very true So alive, so brave, with strong and hungry hearts; I say, show me one that sings in poverty and smiles As good as: Picasso, Dali, Rembrandt, and Yang Yang And that welcomes the world with stretched out arms- Show me all this, or some of this, and I will say no more With this, I descend to its streets, its crowed winding streets As well as, to its neighborhoods with dust and soiled air, And the numerous food carts; -- musicians, paper sellers And with its naked featherless wings, covering all -My Lima, Peru with its renowned Cathedral: Golden yellow with towering crowns, and Within its plaza-square, a water fountain-celebrated. Under its sins, with its wrinkled aged men, lovely women, They all stand tall and bow to its Inca history, its glory- Like the American Dream, they were the noble, the kings And now, from drudgery and toil, sweat and strive, all, all Grinding, grinding away, each and everyday, lover of the, King of Kings: Jesus Christ-this is the Lima I know today; a mighty ship that has already sailed the seven seas, now resting!? Spanish Version Lima, Esta es una noche oscura: no estrellas, ni luna a la vista Solo puntos: rojo, verde y blanco-luces blancas Mientras que el avión desciende, desciende, bajando La despierta ciudad, con sus alas extendidas Extendidas desde las montañas hacia el océano Mientras, Voy descendiendo, abajo, por encima y alrededor de la ciudad La ciudad con las alas extendidas-y luces interminables Invisible: gente, gatos, perros, pájaros, y ratas, infinidad Incontables: puntos, riachuelos de luz, puntos de luz; Por mañana, mañana y otro mañana Ellos dicen--: Tu eres implacable, y yo se que esto es verdad Y ellos me dicen tú tienes ladrones, y muertes- Y esto, me atrevo a decir, que esto también es cierto, muy cierto Pero muéstrame una ciudad de ocho millones contraria --? Tan viva, tan valerosa, con corazones fuertes y hambrientos: Digo, muéstrame una que canta en pobreza, y sonríe Tan buenos como: Picasso, Dali, Rembrant y Yang Yang Y que recibe al mundo con extendidos brazos Muéstrame todo esto, o algo de esto, y no diré mas Con esto, Desciendo a sus calles, atiborrada, zigzagueantes calles Así como su raro vecindario con polvo en el aire Y los numerosos carros de comida, músicos y vendedores de periódicos Y con su desnuda y desplumadas alas, cubriendo todo -Mi Lima, Perú, con su renombrada catedral: Amarilla dorada con su coronadas torres, y Dentro de su plaza cuadrada, una celebrada pileta Bajo su piel, con sus arrugados ancianos, tiernas mujeres, Todos ellos parados altos, y reverenciando a su historia inca, su Como el sueño de América, ellos fueron los nobles, los reyes Y ahora de pesadez, y esfuerzo, sudor, lucha, todos, todos extenuados, fatigados, este y cada día, amantes del Rey de los Reyes: Jesucristo-esta es la Lima que conozco, hoy; un poderoso barco que ya navegó los siete mares, ahora descansando? Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
MORE RESOURCES:
Poetry - Google News |
RELATED ARTICLES
Superman 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. Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two 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 sword, was rusty and dull; The window curtain was open, And there was music in the hall.Oh lovely minute, where art thou? One, is not like the other-: Whirling in an earthly orbit, As the boundless world discovers. The Gaul of La Laguna de Paca Part OneI tell you a legend of long ago Of the sunken city of La Laguna de Paca, (Where I had met a lingering ghost) Within this region of Huancayo--Peru; Truth lies, but only the soul knows.Part TwoSo the legend goes, of long ago: During the rising of the full moon The Mermaid of La Laguna de Paca, appears And to the nearby towns folks, she echoes. Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Discussion of How Do I Love Thee? "How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was written in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also titled Sonnet XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese. Feelings, O How Glorious! Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs against the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.Sometimes we feel fierce anger At those who misuse guns; Sometimes we feel ashamed Of how we treat God's little ones. Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog Emlyn Williams Theatre, Mold, North Wales: 20th February 2003Clwyd Theatr Cymru commemorated the 50th anniversary of the death of the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) with a superb run of performances by a small but accomplished cast of actors.Described in the programme as "A theatrical journey through the prose writing of Dylan Thomas", the production was created by Tim Baker, an Associate of the Royal National Theatre, who won the Manchester Evening News Best Visiting Production award in 1992 for the highly acclaimed To Kill a Mockingbird. Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary] So Many Einstein'sThe morning mist, insists there is a God. The earth remains faithful to its orbit. Colorful Talk "I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree. Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway] Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Apoplectic Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their flaming nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!.. Beautiful Dreamer, Stephen Foster, Americas First Folk Song Writer "Beautiful Dreamer" was written by Stephen Foster just before his death in 1864 at age 37. The song became one of his most famous and most popular. The King and Delka & Moiromma: the Cold Planet [Parts 25 and 26] #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 verve?(Only the long dead)By King Moir I[Of Moiromma]Ah! the aimless cosmos come back to his mind as he stands on his balcony looking up into he eerie dark. The Butcher of Lima and Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Two Poems) Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Peru; in English and Spanish)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 hear your voice in echoesI can hear thy voice, divinely low. I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? . Kafka Re-Trial 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 At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face and voice.And of course they find that he is not, They discover he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not ranked He is surely not like you and me. My hero, my best friend, my Grannio (a.k.a my Grandmother) She raised me like I was her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.She loved me like nobody else has ever loved me in my life. Three Love Poems [all wicked] Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists: as with 'Lovers'. Lifes Too Short Time goes by to quickly to hold your feelings inside Especially when their so strong even if they don't abide.. The Crusader: A Search for the Virtue Inside (an excerpt of an Epic Poem) On through the darkness she searches the bones Seeking the hand of her love; Deep in the stillness, the maid searches on, Petitioning help from above. Onward she gropes through the flesh and the blood Of the warriors disfigured and maimed; She carries no hope for the life of her love - For naught but his body she came. Become A Poet In Ten Minutes 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 today using a few simple techniques.One, two, . Rules for Writing Poetry 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 the Internet as much as I do, you'd find that there are a lot of amateur poets who adamantly declare that there are no rules for writing poetry and if someone even suggests reading poetry or books on poetry, many of the amateur poets will throw up a defensive front. Death & the Supernatural: Poetry/Five Poems Supernatural PoetryHere are five poems,-what I call-death and supernatural poems. Perhaps a bit bizarre, a few stanzas may be, but with unfailing subtlety of course, and a ting of acuteness, but we have to hag on if we want a good ride:1. |
| home | site map |
| © 2006 |