Ode to: the ice maiden of ampatos conference [now in: english and spanish] - poetry
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L. Of. Los Andes Universitario
The Ice Maiden Of Ampato's Summit
Part One The Climb
In the bounce of my life, in my village
By the Andes, I awoke one morning
To find I was selected for a journey
How shall I say: to the conference of Ampato!
Ampato, our sacred mountain
I climbed with our holy priests.
I found in my opinion twenty-thousand feet high;
I would be the sacrificial offering
Ordained so, by our outer space chief priest.
Once on top, death could scarcely be
Any bitter than its wild difficult winds;
And the icy cold Andean ceremony?.
And there I sat, inside the clouds, and rested
With collectibles of silver and gold,
And attractive textiles adorning me
All dressed, in fine generous funerary,
I was to be, the Inca Ice Maiden
Now ready for death and burial.
'I hoped the gods of Ampato,' so I prayed
'Are happy today'; for my body,
Will be frozen soon, anyway.
Yet, I'm so very cold, and my hands clutch,
To my dress-tightly, alongside my side;
I cannot see no matter which vividly.
Thus, the holy minute has come for me
I died with every hope that was.
(Five-hundred years ago!. . . )
Part Two Beyond Death
I felt my soul, my spirit, fall, falling
In this thick dirty air,
After a very, very long silence;
No woman, although woman I once was,
Once was, and now my blood lumped
Lumped and frozen like ice knobs.
The soul maker, from whom gave me
My first breath at birth?
He is advent now, He's nearby
As I reply, He sees my soul cry-
My tears, frozen tears?melt
I will be, resurrected (He tells me)
He rules the earth, its mountains
All its waters and skies,
His holy Inca city, must be nearby?
'Lead me,' I sigh, a lowly sigh-
'Lead me to this Holy Inca City,
And leave my cold ill body behind. '
And He smiles, as he leads me
Leads me with impervious hands,
Leads me to the Holy City!. . . #748 7/4/05
Translated by Nancy Peñaloza Edited by Rosa Peñaloza
La Doncella de Hielo De la Cumbre de Ampato
Versión en español
En la primavera de mi vida, en mi pueblo Por los Andes, desperté una mañana Para encontrar que fui escogida para un viaje.
Como voy a decir: ¡A la cumbre de Ampato! Ampato, nuestra montaña sagrada Subí con nuestros santos sacerdotes.
Me encontré a 20,000 pies de altura; Yo sería el sacrificio ofrecido Ordenado así, por nuestro extraterrestrial sacerdote principal
Una vez en la cima, la muerte apenas podría ser Nada más amarga, que sus arduos vientos salvajes; Y la ceremonia andina fría helada-.
Y allí me senté, entre las nubes, y descansé
Con las estatuillas de plata y oro,
Y el textil hermoso adornándome
Toda vestida, en el fino funerario indulgente, Yo debía ser, la Doncella Inca de Hielo
Ahora lista para la muerte y el entierro.
"Esperé que los dioses de Ampato", por eso recé "Estén contentos hoy día"; por que mi cuerpo, Será congelado pronto, de todos modos.
Todavía, tengo tanto frío, y mis manos enganchadas, A mi vestido- fuertemente, contra mi costado; No puedo ver nada vívidamente.
Así, el momento sagrado ha venido para mí Muero con cada esperanza que hubo. (¡Quinientos años atrás!. . . . )
Más Allá de la Muerte
Sentí mi alma, mi espíritu, caer, cayendo En este aire espeso decolorado, Después de un, muy largo silencio
Ninguna mujer, aunque mujer fui una vez Una vez fui, y ahora mi sangre amontonada Amontonada y congelada como copos de hielo.
El Hacedor del alma, por quien mi elementary textbook aliento Me fue dado al nacer. . . . El está viniendo ahora, El está muy cerca.
Como respondo, El ve mi alma llorar- Mis lágrimas, lágrimas heladas. . . derretirse Yo seré, resucitada (me dice El)
El gobierna la tierra, sus montañas Todas sus aguas y cielos, Sus ciudades Incas santas deben esta cerca?
"Guíame" yo suspiro, un suspiro humilde "Guíame a esta ciudad santa Inca, Y deja mi helado cuerpo enfermo atrás".
Y El sonríe, mientras me guía ¡Guiándome con sus intocables manos, Guiándome a la ciudad santa! . . . . .
#748 4 de Julio del 2005
Dennis Siluk Poet, see his new book "Spell of the Andes," at http://www. amazon. com
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She raised me like I was her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.She loved me like nonentity else has ever loved me in my life.
Lima, City with the Stretched out Wings [In English and Spanish]
Lima, City with the Stretched out WingsIt's an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sightJust dots of: red, green and white-white lightsAs the plane descends, descends, slides down On the long-drawn-out-spun-out lasting city of light Uneven as a crumbled cake, lit up like a Christmas tree-The without sleeping city, with its stretched out wingsStretching from the mountains to the sea- Winding because of the valley's, forests, and streams Stretches, stretches its naked wings-endlesslyAs,I'm descending, down, over and about the city (descending, descending, and sliding to the ground)The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights Down, behind, around, the ground, it's immune to me I'm just part of its evening, a beginning in its inky seaInvisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infiniteUncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights; People: walking, talking, sleeping, drinking by the dots People: waiting, killing, robbing, praying, by the dotsFor tomorrow, tomorrow and an added tomorrowThey say-:you are ruthless, and I know this to be trueAnd they tell me you have thieves and murders-And this, I dare say-but shall-is also true, very true But show me a city to the awkward of eight-million-? I shake my fist and say: '?show me! But no one does'So alive, so brave, with brawny and hungry hearts;I say, show me one that sings in poverty and smiles Prove me one that celebrates year-round of its heroes Show me painters that are as good-that sell on streets-As good as: Picasso, Dali, Rembrandt, and Yang YangAnd that welcomes the world with stretched out arms-Show me all this, or some of this, and I will say no moreWith this,I descend to its streets, its crowed winding streetsAs well as, to its neighborhoods with dust and mucky air, And hear the laughs of the children; the dogs on roofs Sights of the shoe-shiners: men and boys, in the parksAnd the many food carts; -- musicians, paper sellersAnd with its naked featherless wings, jacket all-My Lima, Peru with its celebrated Cathedral:Golden blonde with high crowns, andWithin its plaza-square, a water fountain-celebrated.Under its sins, with its craggy aged men, lovely women,They all stand tall and bow to its Inca history, its glory- Its world that once ruled all, like the Roman Empire,Like the American Dream, they were the noble, the kingsAnd now, from labor 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 by now sailed the seven seas, now resting!?Spanish VersionLima, La ciudad con las alas extendidas Translated by Rosa PeñalozaEsta es una noche oscura: no estrellas, ni luna a la vistaSolo puntos: rojo, verde y blanco-luces blancasMientras que el avión desciende, desciende, bajando A la larga-extendida-plana persistente ciudad de luces Plana como un panqueque, encendida como un árbol de navidad-La despierta ciudad, con sus alas extendidasExtendidas desde las montañas hacia el océano Zigzagueante a través de los valles, bosques y riachuelos Estirando, estirando sus alas desnudas-interminablesMientras,Voy descendiendo, abajo, por encima y alrededor de la ciudad (Descendiendo, descendiendo, y deslizándose a la tierra)La ciudad con las alas extendidas-y luces interminables Abajo, Abajo, detrás, alrededor, la tierra, es inmune a mí Sólo soy parte de esta noche, un bautizado en su oscuro océanoInvisible: gente, gatos, perros, pájaros, y ratas, infinidadIncontables: puntos, riachuelos de luz, puntos de luz; Gente: caminando, conversando, durmiendo, comiendo bajo los puntos de luz Gente: esperando, matando, robando, rezando bajo los puntos de luzPor mañana, mañana y otro mañanaEllos dicen--:Tu eres implacable, y yo se que esto es verdadY ellos me dicen tú tienes ladrones, y muertes-Y esto, me atrevo a decir, que esto también es cierto, muy ciertoPero muéstrame una ciudad de ocho millones contraria --? Sacudo mis puños y digo: "?muéstrame," pero nadie lo haceTan viva, tan valerosa, con corazones fuertes y hambrientos:Digo, muéstrame una que canta en pobreza, y sonríe Pruébame una como esa, que celebra alrededor del año a sus héroes Muéstrame pintores tan buenos-que venden en las calles-Tan buenos como: Picasso, Dali, Rembrant y Yang YangY que recibe al mundo con extendidos brazosMuéstrame todo esto, o algo de esto, y no diré masCon esto,Desciendo a sus calles, atiborrada, zigzagueantes callesAsí como su raro vecindario con polvo en el aire Y oigo la risa de los niños, los perros en los techos Vista de los lustrabotas, hombres y muchachos, en los parquesY los numerosos carros de comida, músicos y vendedores de periódicosY con su desnuda y desplumadas alas, cubriendo todo-Mi Lima, Perú, con su renombrada catedral:Amarilla dorada con su coronadas torres, yDentro de su plaza cuadrada, una celebrada piletaBajo su piel, con sus arrugados ancianos, tiernas mujeres,Todos ellos parados altos, y reverenciando a su historia inca, sugloria- Su mundo que una vez gobernó todo, como el Imperio RomanoComo el sueño de América, ellos fueron los nobles, los reyesY 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.
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]?wind was blowing desperately It never left for a flash Bursts of fury I found it arduous to keep My feet placed, thus, I clung to my knees For one delightful instant I could not now disguise it From for myself Some clever ambiance Manifested itself Then the contemporary drew Sharply away from me With her mystery-Back out into the open sea Yet-, still it roared back at me! It was an uttered announce It made my head swim I noticed it kept-step With my exultation!?#761 7/14/2005Notes: There are mysteries to the sea, at times it seems as to have its own mind, its own character; as if character was plugged into all that exist. Earth itself being an creature with its own lively soul.
Im Sorry Mom! A Mothers Day Poem
Mother's Day Poetry,I'm Sorry Mom!I'm sorry for the troubles And the reservations I brought you. I'm sorry for my mistakes, I didn't mean to make you blue.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
What's a prisoner to do when fairness fails and the above suspicion is escorted off to jail?What's a prisoner to do once stigmatized, caged and abandoned and ostracized?What's a prisoner to do there's no one to trust; the approach fails and the outcome unjust?What's a prisoner to do when breed decide the punishment is reasonable and justified?What's a prisoner to do while confined in a cell; the perpetrator's free and faring quite well?What's a prisoner to do once his reputation is dead and his life has been ruined since of what a big shot said?What's a prisoner to do when he's not believed, though he's effective the truth, he's brain wave to deceive?What's a prisoner to do as he sits all alone, no one seems to care; ex- contacts all gone?What's a prisoner to do meeting lost and idle and most of one's judgment befall suicidal?What's a prisoner to do when freedom's taken away and the will to live diminishes each day?What's a prisoner to do when hedged in by strife; with no avoid possible; no accidental for a new life?What's a prisoner to do when he can no longer see the beauty of the sky or the waves of the sea?What's a prisoner to do when the sun he can't feel, nor the breeze of bound since his fate is sealed?What's a prisoner to do when doomed to despair but still praying to avoid the emotional chair?Tell me, what's a prisoner to do?Rev. Saundra L.
A Dose of Laughter
I'm not well. Can't you tell? Kinda low, so, give me a dose of laughter.
Four Poems: Crop of Angry Cattle [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Angry Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their burning nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!..
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Comforting Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some bounce day,When because of the balanced waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague dimness that stand the dead,Slipped down the coiled coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Fair Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies sheltered Haigh Asbury's dispossessed head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves broken on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
To My Friend, With Love
All is still; all quiet; The world seems to be at peace. My soul is singing its musical melody And I'm led like in a daze to write its tunes.
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Dimness of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]I shall blend-in, into theMountains- Into the faintest thinShadowsof the mountains! Like the moss on moistenedStoneLike a leaf blown far fromHome?(freshly fallen)!I shall blend-in, clingingTo the mountains- Into its faintest thinShadowsNote: when I here back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove by means of the Andes.
Burning Autumn Trees [a poem in Spanish and English]
Burning Autumn Leaves [1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel incisive rake punctured And twisted all through tons of autumn leaves (back in the '50s); And there's a hill yet, I didn't rake, I see Behind it, two embankments Leaves I didn't rake a day ago; The essence of fall sleeps on the ground.
Two Poems and an Breakdown ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Assay ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it Everything has a denotation but life Even the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from God Ghosts have lonely sins Her bones are stones Up and down the hill Gardens blossom Spotless skies Dramatists August I can not rest!..
I never belief I would have to say GOODBYE to my best friend? But that's what I had to do today I had to let go of her evermore -There was no other way For me to face certainty Or pretend to be okay I had no conception -Of how hard it would be To in reality let go Of this huge part of me? Not tomorrow or ever -Will my life be the same Devoid of my Grannio here Life seems to be a game - Of accidental and questions?Questions that never end And have no answers That can begin to mend The wide hole confidential of meNor come close to medicinal My heart and soul that Seem to be air Lost, numb and empty-Completely hollow? Like I have no one left To actually be a consequence - By means of life with respectShe was so much more Than my Grandmother I knew that already She left this earthAnd I told her so More than once or twice For the reason that she had to know Just how very distinctive -And truly blessed I felt to have her as my associate She was the best Devoid of a doubt -My Grannio gave me More than any person Will ever certainly see? It was an implicit -Kind of love That came with no situation And went far above The conventional caringAnd be an average of aid For a grandchild - Or category of any sort She gave more of herselfTo me than anybody In my life ever will Nonentity could have done What she did for meWith so much devotion, Conclusive honesty And true emotion? Her dependability was -Sincerely ceaseless I achieve so much Now that I'm crying - And wishing thatI had just one more day To spend asset her hand And frustrating to take away Her fears and her pain -That took over her Body and her mind Like never before? In our lives -I would have from the bottom of your heart Given 20 years of my life To have her only Be here tomorrow -I cannot account for The way I feel today Or how much I pain Is classified of me -That will never go away No affair how much time passes I know this ache will stay With me forever?Just as her exclusive touch Will continually be with me And mean so very much - To me and my son?Jakob Thomas Her "BabyDoll" And I assure To never not remember -What she would have done If she was still here For him - her only one Great-grandchild?Resource Box - © Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu art a condor to the skyOf glory buried in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble Beyond your country shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, surrounded by its stream!My image acutely carved, rippledIn its pure shallow watersWaiting, just behind you for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
Feelings, O How Glorious!
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs adjacent to the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.Sometimes we feel fierce anger At those who exploitation guns; Sometimes we feel ashamed Of how we treat God's diminutive ones.
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