Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley
(English version)
In what retreat art hid?-
Where falling mountains groanIn shadow and among
The rapids of the Rio?Is not your name Mantaro Valley?
Beyond the footprints of the Andes--?
I can hear your voice in echoes
I can hear thy voice, divinely low.I do but know thy by a glance
As the clouds above me know? .Ah! Gone like that, but love-love!
Hath found my naked soul!
4-20-05 (#627) Note: written after seeing the Mantaro Valley, beyond the Andes.
Huellas al Valle del MantaroPor Dennis SilukTraducido por Rosa Peñaloza
En que retiro el arte se esconde?
Donde Montañas decrecientes gimenEn la sombra y entre
Los rápidos del río?No es tu nombre Valle del Mantaro
Más allá de las huellas de los Andes-?
Puedo oír tu voz en ecos
Puedo oír tu voz, divinamente bajo.Pero te conozco por una mirada
Como las nubes arriba conocen... .Ah! ido así, pero amor-amor!
Encontraron mi desnuda alma!
The Butcher of Lima(Dedicated to: Mario Poggi)
English Version
Prologue: I do not wish to judge anyone, lest I be judged, and God forbid should I be judged by anyone but He. Thus, I write this following poem with a word of discretion to the reader likewise, that all is not as it seems, is it. Having said that, it has been said the Psychologist Mario Poggi-whom I met on three occasions and purchased a sculpture from, and received one from him as a gift-has learned the hard way-that is, the curse of revenge has long wings; hence, revenge is for the Lord. Why? Because both the avenger and the victim are cursed thereafter (one does not have time to make amends if that is indeed his wish; the other, loses his life slowly as he lives on). Thus, "The Butcher of Lima," is really a picture of the sculpture Mr. Poggi calls, "The Face of Anguish"; or at least it is to me. During our three meetings, I did not find in his eyes guilt for his murderous deed, for he rid a city of a maniac who was cutting up bodies and burying them,-and perhaps saved a few lives, did he not? But rather a sadness that he did not close his eyes during the process of his slaying of man called "The Butcher," and now the sculptures he has molded with his hands are the eyes of his soul.
The Poem
"The Butcher of Lima"
The Psychologist, he killed
"The Butcher of Lima,"So it has been said?
With a belt around his neckHe strangled him to death!
As he sucked in his breath--Head carved like a fish!?
Poetic Justice!
He died a purple death
The "Butcher of Lima?."And no one wept.
And the media cried the name:"Poggi! Poggi!?you're insane!"
It is as fate would have it
Motionless and forgotten Are the cold blades of redemption.#628 (4-21-05)
Spanish Version
"El Descuartizador de Lima"
Por Dennis L. Siluk
Traducido por Rosa Peñaloza
El psicólogo, él mato al
"Descuartizador de Lima,"O eso es lo que dicen ...
Con una correa alrededor de su cuello
Lo estranguló hasta matarlo!Mientras él se asfixiaba-
Cabeza cortada como un pescado!...
Obra de justicia
El murió asfixiado
El "Descuartizador de Lima..."Y nadie lloró
Y la media gritaba el nombre:
"Poggi! Poggi! ...eres un enfermo!"
Es este como el destino lo tendríaInsensitivo y olvidado
Son las espadas frías de redención.
Two Poems by the Author and Poet, Dennis Siluk, while traveling in Peru and Central America, April, 2005. Said the Author,"The Mantaro Valley was captivating...." as it led him out of the Andes, and through the valley itself, into Huancayo, Peru. For more information on this poem, or on the second poem, "The Butcher of Lima," you may want to review the article by Marissa Cardenas,Columnist-Correo Newspaper "Cultural" page, dated 23 April, 2005. Rosa P.
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Whats A Prisoner to Do?
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Azra, Azra,Wake up Azra.Wake up Azra,It is time to go.
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Lucky...
You make me smilelike I've seldom done beforeYou give me a reasonto want more and more..
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I AM SO GRATEFUL for simpler times.Stores were closed on Sundays,TV shows seemed to make more sense,Family members spent ample time with each other,And people were valued more than things.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek[Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake SuperiorRising out of the woods like:A swamp mistI'm waiting for breakfast(at the B&B)I pace the groundsThe scent of green shrubbery:Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me-Branches like big brown armsDescend?The embankment, to the rightBlue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me(my wife says 'be careful'she went to get the camera)The greens and blues touchMy face and blue jeans-Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony(I'll see them later in pictures)For now, it's daybreakIn Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I adored the biggest lake in the world.
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