Tale of the brick maker, of san jeronimo, peru [in english and spanish] - poetry
Tale of the Brick Maker,
In the Andean mountains, surrounded by the
Mantaro Valley constituency of Peru,
village of San Jerónimo.
with bent-grass, and huge
And bearing towards the ocean's coast.
The old man had hands like a farmer's
was raised on labor and ceaseless;
baked them, from adjacent firewood, and found
each night into twilight.
And so Augusto lived, directing his
household fairly apart from the village,
goodly acres of land; he now was a
Happy and beneficial was he, an ox of a man
with leathered skin, and dark eyes;
Thus, at peace with God and man
I sat back in the Plaza de Arms, of Lima, Peru
listened to the tale of this old man,
told?these were days deserted and desolate
asleep, he tried to make a living,
in those days, with zilch in his pockets
He hadn't eaten for a few days, so the old
man said?, he was quite young back then;
elastic and descending were his legs,
in the city, now at trails end?
on some empty busy steps, silent.
Moistening his lips, looking up, he saw---
(eyes half dead)
All was ended now, the hope that
an indecisive longing.
"Sir, can I help you? Why are you so sad?"
spoke the hardly ten year old.
not calculating what to say;
She said once more, to the bewildered
Hundreds of feet walked by, where she
stood, he sat, "Miss, I can't pay the rent!"
Within an hour's time, the hardly girl
paying the rent a month in advance?!
But this is not where the story ends my friend,
it was certainly just the beginning.
Wondered, and asked:
(all numerous of us now enthralled with his tale);
"What sir is so funny?"
and married her.
she had been long dead, and he missed her.
Translated by: Nancy Penaloza
Un Cuento del Ladrillero
De San Jerónimo de Tunán
En las montañas Andinas, dentro de la región
El anciano tenía manos como el de un agricultor
Y así, Augusto vivió, dirigiendo su
Feliz y saludable él era, como un buey era el hombre
Me senté de nuevo en la plaza de armas, de Lima, Perú
El no había comido durante unos días, eso el
Humedeciendo sus labios, mirando arriba, el vio
"¿Señor, puedo ayudarle? ¿Por qué esta usted tan triste?"
Cientos de pies andaban por ahí, donde ella
Pero esto no es donde termina la historia mi amigo,
Dennis Siluk, dramatist and poet, web site http://dennissiluk. tripod. com he will be going to Peru for the presentation of his book, "Spell of the Andes," in October; he lives in Peru and Minnesota
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