Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's Rim
It still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim-Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frameAdjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lampsHanging from old beams and shade?the wooden frameHer footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto itAlone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around herA drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her faceHer figure etched against the wooden frame,She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a birdNow sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopesShe yielded before the sluggish advance of sunsetBlood dripped, with her dying darknessAnd a crimson moon hurled a flame acrossThe shadowy clouds, burning throughout the skyThe tormented sky above her?
Crossing the valley's floor her eye gripped itRocky images, highest pointsThrusting herself up boldly from to the ledgeThe painted morning blushed over the rimHer brows and nose, face against the granite stoneMassive injuries was taking form,Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sunIt was too great a task-to die alone?she wished nowShe had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go.Too much for any woman in a lost worldOut of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alasMute and protesting against life's uselessnessA narrow path lay below her slender bodyBetween death and attainment, a careless footThe rocks beneath her weakening, she plungedPlunged to her death, in the carving hands of the valleyThinking of it, as she fell, thinking with a smiled,Saying, looking up-dead before her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!'When they found her, her face was unafraid of falling.
#808 8/20/05
In SpanishTranslated by Nancy Penaloza
Las memorias del Borde de una Tierra desértica
Todavía estaba iluminado cuando ella pausó en el borde de la tierra desértica-Sobre, el borde descansaba como un bruto durmiente, un marco de madera Adyacente hacia el azul donde estrellas mañaneras colgadas como lámparas de aceite, colgando desde viejos rayos y dando sombra? al marco de madera?Su equilibrio cogiendo los rayos, mientras ella había caído sobre esto
Sola, ella miró la mañana, subiendo hacia ella Una mujer trainera, marcada por la vida, y sueños inclinados Con el aspecto de dolor y el músculo moldeado sobre su cara Su figura inclinada contra el marco de madera, Ella trató de brincar, y perdió el equilibrio, colgando como un pájaro Ahora bebiendo a sorbos la penumbra en la repisa y esperanzas trastornadas
Ella cedió antes del avance inactivo de la puesta del sol La Sangre goteó, con su oscuridad mortal
Y una luna carmesí lanzó una llama a través De las nubes vagas, ardiendo en todas partes del cielo
El cielo atormentado encima de ella?
Cruzando el piso del valle su ojo agarró esto
Imágenes rocosas, lo más altos puntos.Desde donde se empujó ella con audacia hacia la repisa,
La mañana pintada ruborizada sobre el borde Sus frentes y nariz, de cara contra la piedra de granito,
Heridas masivas tomaban la forma, Su silueta flotando tan indolente a través del sol
Esto fue demasiado una gran tarea - para morir sola?que ella deseó ahora
Ella no había brincado?miles de pies abajo, aún ir.
Demasiado para cualquier mujer en un mundo perdido
Fuera de la madera débil su mente tenía paz; Ella sabía que pronto todo esto estaría sobre ¡ay! Muda y protestando contra la inutilidad de la vida
Un camino estrecho descansa debajo de su cuerpo delgado Entre la muerte y el logro, un pie descuidadoLas rocas debajo de su debilitamiento, ella se sumergió Sumergida a su muerte, en las manos de talladura del valle
Pensando en ello, mientras ella se cayó, pensando con una sonrisa, Diciendo, alzando la vista-muerta ante sus ecos: "¡El tiempo es corto, el tiempo es corto?. El tiempo es corto!"
Cuando ellos la encontraron, su cara estaba sin miedo a la caída.
*808 8/20/05
MORE RESOURCES:
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