En el dia de San Jorge...

Que suenen las campanas en la plaza
en homenaje a nuestro patron santo
y que me den del sueldo un adelanto
para irme de 'weekend' con una flaca...

Seis ovejas

May sheep safely graze…

Seis ovejas descansan en el medio
De un campo verde rodeado de tractores
Es un campo de pasto en que, sin flores,
Las ovejas se sumerjen en el tedio
De una manana gris de mudo invierno
Que veo desde mi veloz ventana
En un tren que va con rumbo a Londres.
Seis ovejas en invierno comen pasto
Yo desde un tren brevemente las veo
Y envidio su existencia sin deseos.

Dejame, alma, intentarlo de nuevo

Dejame, alma, intentarlo de nuevo
y llenar de palabras el pequeno cuaderno
que importa si el poema me resulta hasta el cuerno
que importa si los versos me salen hasta el huevo

Dejame, corazon, que desista de ruegos:
Este es de las palabras el maldito y eterno
combate en que las fuerzas negras del averno
buscan que amilanarme con pestilente fuego

Dejame, cuerpo, intentar todavia
liberar mis pasiones con palabras hiladas
en libretas de notas que van siempre conmigo

Otra vez mi exaltada cancion, alma mia,
Probare a liberar de su celda de mente
en libretas de notas que me brindan su abrigo.

Pais de leche y miel...

Recientemente hemos comprado un sofa nuevo, por deterioro del anterior. Lo que no les conte es el rollazo de deshacernos del sofa anterior. Como lo que ocurre con los automoviles viejos, esta es una ocasion para que las diferencias entre el 1er mundo y el 3ro se pongan en evidencia.

La opcion obvia hubiera sido pagar un adicional para que los que me trajeron el sofa nuevo se llevaran el viejo. Hubiera costado unos 80 dolares, pero como el municipio aqui ofrece hasta dos recojos al an~o para objectos grandes (electrodomesticos, muebles), optamos por acogernos a eso. El incoveniente es que lo hacen en dia fijo, cuando hay cupo. Ademas, el recojo lo hacen de la puerta para afuera - o sea, habia que sacar el sofa a la calle en la manana del dia "D".

Asi, estuvimos semana y media con el sofa viejo entre la sala y el comedor - comodo, pero ocupando espacio. El dia esperado, sacamos el sofa a la calle... y nada! Cheryl se habia equivocado de dia - los basureros pasaron pero se fueron con las manos vacias. Re-programar el recojo nos daba dos semanas mas de espera. Asi que no me quedo mas remedio que... tomar mis herramientas y descuajeringar, despedazar y destrozar el pobre sofa, cuya unica macula y pecado fue que la tela se habia gastado y roto - el armatoste, la estructura, estaba intacta. Hacerlo re-cubrir nos hubiera costado 65% del costo del sofa nuevo (pero en tela, no cuero - o sea, un falso ahorro).

Debo confesar que me senti culpable, serruchando y cortando el sofa para poder acomodarlo en la camioneta - tratamos, les aseguro, de encontrar una organizacion caritativa, que las hay, al estilo de los traperos de Emaus tan queridos de mi mama, para que se llevara el sofa. Pero la respuesta fue siempre la misma: si esta roto o raido, no les interesa. Aun para la caridad, en este pais hay estandares que cubrir! Si fuera ropa o cosas mas ligeras (celulares, computadoras) se podrian enviar al 3er mundo. Pero no sofas.

In the total darkness, a little light goes a long way

It was Easter 1986. I was supposed to go with a party of Scouts on a walking weekend in the Canta area, in the Andes just East of Lima (Peru). I was one of the six adults in the party of around 18. A change in my exams timetable meant I could not leave with the group in the morning coach to Canta. My namesake JC was in a similar situation, so we arranged to meet up and take a 4pm coach instead - it should put is in Canta by 6pm, just at dusk, and we should then be able to make the 3mile walk from Canta - at the top of the valley - to Obrajillo, the village by the river near which we'd be camping for the first night. Sergio, the leader, had prepared a map with the camping spot marked in it. Easy.


Of course, it didn't work out as planned. The coach took four hours to reach Canta - it got there at 8pm. It was a moonless night, and fog had covered the entire valley. My mate and I walked the four streets that made up the town of Canta and took the road to Obrajillo - apparently the only people to do such thing that night. We had no torch with us and could not see beyond our noses. At some point we heard water running - a small stream of water that run across the winding road, but since it had been raining the day before, we suspected it might have grown wider. When we got close enough we kneeled down to touch the water, then tried to guess the width of the stream, hoped there'd be no obstacles on the other side, and jumped. Good news: we got across unharmed. Bad: we fell short, and ended up wet to the ankles.

When we finally got to Obrajillo the fog had lifted. Only the village square had street lights. We followed the map, took the path out of the village towards the mountains and after a mile or so reached the end - the cobblestoned way marked by half-height stone walls on boths sides became just a winding path going up to the foothills of the mountain. There we hesitated. According to the map our group should be right there, but in the dead silence of the night (in the Andes people rise early and retire early - at 9.30pm there wasn't a soul in sight) we couldn't hear a thing or see any lights. We panicked. We called, shouted, blew our whistles - no response. We assumed we had misread the map - perhaps the campsite was on the opposite side of the river. We walked back through the village, through the cemetery end (how is that for atmospheric?), over a footbridge and down the path on the opposite bank.

From there, we saw it: a light was shining on the other site, very near where we had just been. It was a flickering light inside a tent - in the pitch dark it seemed so near! We rushed to it - it took us a good 30' to get there. To our huge disappointment, the light belonged to a parafin lamp lit by some peasants guarding their field from a makeshift shelter.

Beaten, we strolled into the village. We found one shop open, a frail woman and a single candle on the counter. We begged her to let us stay the night but she refused. She helpfully suggested we tried Don Melchor's - he was known to rent rooms to travellers. His was the house right next to the church on the village square. We went there and gently tapped on the door. Nothing. We tried again, this time whispering 'Don Melchor, Don Melchor'. Nothing. An old man sitting on the steps of the church, cigarette in hand, looked on. Panic once more seized us - we frantically started beating the door with our walking sticks and shouting 'Don Melchor!, Don Melchor!'.

The old man from the Church stood up and came towards us. Then he said calmly 'Yes, young men? I am Don Melchor'. How we spent the night at his place, how we found our comrades the following morning and how the whole expedition came to a successful end, will be the matter of another note.

A train journey

I do the Manchester – London train trip, on average, twice a month. It hardly feels like ‘London’ – it is more like a long local commute – especially if I have plenty to do during the journey. Then I get immersed in my stuff and suddenly we are there. Arriving into London is like joining a cattle stampede – a rush out of the train, into the station and down the escalators to the Tube, then more – and more frantic – rushing down more escalators. I emerge out of a side-exit of the Charing Cross Tube station – but right on Trafalgar Square, just round the corner from the office, to which I always dash, hardly ever stopping to appreciate my surroundings and the fact that I am in the heart of one of the world’s greatest cities.

Sometimes, when the weather is nice and I have a bit of time to spare, I do walk from Euston to Trafalgar Sq. I don’t follow a carefully mapped out route – I roughly know which direction to take, and sometimes I take little detours that, in the square-and-grid pattern my South American mind still expects in any large city, I hope will take me roughly to my destination – only that in England they don’t. Sometimes I end up on the Strand and the BBC’s Bush House, sometimes I err towards Regent Street and Piccadilly Circus. Today I walked through the thick of Soho and its cafes, bars, cinemas and ‘bookshops’. Sometimes I say to myself that, one day, I’ll build enough time so that I can stop by one of these cafes run by Turks, Lebanese, Cypriots and what have you. But part of me knows that, in London, the price alone will be enough to disappoint you – not to mention the indifferent service provided by underpaid Polish or Czech girls that look like they should be called Olga or Alena.

Walking back from Euston at the end of the working day is a even rarer treat – why, most of the time I’m late or feel that I should be getting home after indulging in some unscheduled networking in Head Office (‘good for my career’ I assure my wife). London is even more frantic at dusk than it is in the morning – people aren’t just in a hurry, they look really desperate, perhaps overwhelmed by the pressures a long commute puts on them and their families; perhaps wary of what the evening ahead has in store for them. There are of course pockets of contentment – the young and care free, the affluent, the tourist, students who by the most part seem not too have too terrible a time or to live quite as far as the average working Sussex-based commuter.

When, like today, I take the tram back to Euston, I’m always grateful for the tip a Head Office colleague passed on to me years ago: don’t do the obvious and take the Northern Line straight to Euston. On paper it seems to make sense, but it involves a lot more walking, deeper into Charing Cross, then more escalators at Euston. From Trafalgar, at the Admiralty Arch end, take the subway straight down and go for the Jubilee line. Then count two stops – alight at Oxford Circus. Cross to the adjacent platform and - voila! – you can take the Victoria line to Euston, only two stops away. When it works, it works a treat – especially when you strike ‘synchronicity’ and the change happens seamlessly. There are unlucky days, of course – once I got on the Jubilee line only to find Oxford Circus had been closed due to a security scare, and had no option but to go the long way round – and miss my train in the process.

Once on the concourse in Euston, I follow a sort of ritual – unless time is up, I always go to a shop called ‘Journey’s Friend’ and buy myself an ice cream, then go wait until they announce the platform for the Manchester train. I should find out why, when they seem able to announce all other platforms for all other trains well in advance, the Manchester one is withheld until the very last minute. I’ve concluded that it is because someone in Euston does not like Mancunians, and gets some sort of perverse pleasure out of seeing a whole bunch of us standing on the concourse, then running off the minute the platform is announced, blatantly vying for the best possible seat – the table seat, aisle so that one can hog the whole table and have room for stretching one’s legs; or window, so as to have access to the power point and ensure that one can spread the old laptop without worrying that the battery will run out. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t really got any urgent work to do – it looks good and one can always use the time writing witty little articles about train journeys.

Dos peruanos

Ayer en la estacion conoci a dos peruanos
Tomaba mi café y escuche el viejo acento
Y por unos segundos, retrocedi en el tiempo
A las calles de Lima en los largos veranos

Ayer en la estacion dos peruanos hablaban
Y tomaban café en la mesa de al lado

The Brave One

I sat alone in the Forbidden Cinema
Among the chairs, all upholstered red
and watched the trailers with mighty content
a night in town before going to bed

I sat alone and when the movie started
I prayed to God he would spare me the worst
and watched the characters as they damaged each other
and heard their laughter which was offered in jest

I sat alone in the deserted theatre
which showed a movie which was coated in pain
then I walked out to the comfort of strangers
and sought the shelter that was brought by the rain

Through cloud and sunshine

Look at you, through morning fog and mist
Look at you, emerging from a cloud
Reflective vest, red warning lights and proud
Lycra-clad goddess who makes morning mist lift

Waterfall

What end could be most beautiful
for the mountain stream
and its meandering course

Through the barren landscape
under a grey sky
suddenly the view of the valley
all doubt removed about its destiny

Por visitar mi chifa favorito

Por visitar mi chifa favorito
me subi a una combi en la Arequipa:
zarandeo procaz, que bien me equipa
para apreciar de un buen chaufa el saborcito.

Divertimento duelistico

Angelica, tu me cortas
con molinetes de maga
y de tajos con tu daga
cercenas mi arteria aorta!

The cat my neighbour keeps

The cat my neighbour keeps now is my friend

No more will I scare him off my garden

For I have seen the fleeting mouse scurry around

And I have made my peace with my former foe.

Regreso de la montana espaciana

Regreso de la voz, del edificio
Regreso de la voz, de la manera
Que supo dar a luz por vez primera
Que supo ser cabal desde el inicio

Regreso de los fuegos de artificio
Regreso del rugir de oscura fiera
Asi la vida nos viene desde fuera
Asi la muerte ejerce fiel su oficio

Oh espiritu poetico que cura
Oh espiritu tanatico que duele
Oh espiritu que en suenos ya perdura

Verso volcanico en medio de la nieve
Verso que llora, sangra y suda
Verso del combatiente cuando muere

Morning in May

Morning in May: what a delight!
The grass is green, the sun is bright
and as the train speeds past the canal
this sight is good for my morale.

Just then I see a smoke column rise
and the blue sky in two slice
power station, standing tall
it makes me feel so very small

Arrival into London Euston

The playground, bare
The old park lane
The biking postie
The bowling green and its small pavillion
The cranes supporting tall structures
Amidst the rows of terraced houses
- A brand new stadium in the background
The grey, red blue tube train carriages
Heading for their first tunnel of the day
The playground, bare
The church spire
The train, reluctantly slows down
The signs that greet the Northern visitor
- A spray-paint job, proclaiming "hello, shitbag"
Grey pigeons on the grey platform
Forever under cover
The rush of people into the concourse and down the escalators
Scrambling for change or for an Oyster card or for the shortest queue
The silent journey into a packed underground
The bustling square with its enormous lions
And large numbers of pigeons

Office romance

(Try reading with a "Billy Connolly" accent)

What have I got to do
to get closer to you?
I've tried making you a brew
and loitering outside the loo...

Parque

Cielo azul, nubes blancas, verde ladera
Todo lo veo desde este cuerpo, desde estos ojos
Con esta espalda que se recuesta
sobre una banca de ocre madera

Et lux in tenebris lucet

Y la luz ilumino las tinieblas
La luz del amor, desnuda como una lampara
Colgada del techo en el cuarto donde hacen los interrogatorios
En peliculas de espias o detectives en las que actua Humphrey Bogart

Y la luz ilumino las tinieblas
La luz del amor, como el tren que penetra el tunel
Silbando a cien por hora, creando un vacio a su paso
Una presion que hiere los oidos. La urgencia del viajero solitario.

Y la luz ilumino las tinieblas
La luz del amor, como velita en pastel de cumpleanos
Cuando cumpliste seis y el mundo era cosa de tres kilometros
La distancia del amigo mas lejano – y habia que ir en auto a recogerte

Autumn days

In autumn days the sky forever grey
The garden fence, brown or almost red with new panels-
A summer's endeavour, like the few remaining berries
Hanging from our neighbour's bushes
Uncollected, uneaten, gathering dropplets of persistent drizzle
Waiting to whither fully and be washed out
With the first strong rains of October
Praying perhaps to be gone for good before the short dark days
Should find them, left behind and forgotten

Haiku

The luscious foliage
Flocks of birds
Dreams of the trees in winter

Arte poetica

Musa que gimes desesperada
con el furor de la tierra arada
en la que siembro ya mi semilla -
agricultura de maravilla

Musa que gimes con alegria
sobre el trigal al final del dia
en ti celebro feliz jornada -
agricultura sobre mi amada

Be kind

Be kind to every creature
and hurt no living thing:
Pick up the lovely beetle
and chuck it in the bin!

At the end of the day

At the end of the day
Somewhere along the way
We had to push the envelope
Pull out the hymn sheet
And sing out of the box
All together now, once more
Dear friends once more
We few, we lucky, phew!
Who drank the mountain dew
Under a sky so blue
All the trees made invisible
In the proverbial forest

We are all on a journey
At the end of the day
Sailing around the bay
Hoping to think or swim
And to do so on a whim
To feast on bread and butter
After the horse has bolted
And I again have been sorted

You have neither heart nor mind
I'm not one-eyed, you are not blind
You are not cruel and I am not kind
Your words speak to me but not of love
They do reveal to me your treasure trove
Your voice is always coming from above

Haiku - winter morning

Old hotel roof
Dawn rushes in
Crest of a wave of fire

Haiku

No spark, nor tinder
Only the warmth of fire
is remembered

A road is built

A road is built
by cleverly conceiving certain journeys
the rest is just measuring obstacles
flatenning the weaker ones and
working above, around or underneath the rest

but roads are neither trips nor destinations
and if you feel a new road will bring us closer together
you'd be partly mistaken

A road is built
by craftily harnessing hope and distance
and weaving them together on the landscape

The rest is up to us.

Disparate romantico

Come share with me the open road
and be my love, while love will last
and under heavens overcast
pedal our bicycles abroad

Come sail with me in the same boat
and, tied together to the mast,
head for the storm and leave the past
in some remote part of the coast

Come for a walk up the green hill
the rainiest weekend of October
to enjoy with me fog, hail or thunder

The two of us won't sit still
if you will let me be your lover
till death -or fate- put us asunder

Blank page

The four restrictive corners of the page:
A field to be ploughed
A sea to cast your net in
A desert to journey across
And to get lost, discover or explore,
Colonise, inhabit, cultivate,
Runsack, loot, take by storm
A clean bed, empty but waiting
for weary sleepers or contorted lovers
The ultimate frontier, the last space

After a night in town, with Jack Daniels

On nights like this Death cannot come too soon
as I lay awake, on my bed, in my room

and hours fall on me like drops of rain from a leaking ceiling
they quickly form a pond, around me first,
eventualy inside me, a deep well of bitter water

When I wake up, the neighbours' grand oak tree has been blown off its roots
Taking with it half the garden fence, some of the roof
and the new concrete garage - now reduced to rubble

Atop my own roof my grandfather's weathervane
spins wildly and triumphant
having conjured up a storm

How much my life has changed since I met you

Corte una rosa

Corte una rosa - la que mas queria
la de mas color, la que mas brillaba
corte la rosa que mas me importaba
y fue porque la sabia ya perdida

Corte la rosa que perdia la vida
y la entregue a la mujer que amaba
senti en mis manos que suave temblaba
mi roja rosa de mi se despedia

Hoy mi jardin brilla bajo la luna
mientras mi amada a mi lado yace
y yo despierto recuerdo a mi rosa

Cuando al fin duermo, mi buena fortuna
me regala otra, que en el jardin nace:
una nueva vida aun mas hermosa.

-----------------------------

I cut a rose, the one I loved the most
The one most colourful and bright
I cut the rose that to me most mattered
and it was because I knew it to be already lost

I cut the rose that was losing its life
and gave it to the woman I loved
I felt it tremble in my hands
My red rose saying farewell to me

Now my garden shines under the moon
while my beloved lies by my side
and I, awake, remember my rose

When at last I sleep, my good fortune
gifts me with another one, born in the garden:
a new life, yet all the more beautiful.

Romantica cantata - 20 anhos despues

Mi coraza es mi corazon
que es al mismo tiempo
mi casa
mi ventana
mi puerta
y mi cancion

(e.1985)

My armour is my heart
which is at the same time
my house
my window
my door
and my song

(w. 1985)

My lady sleeps - draft 1, utterly OTT

My lady sleeps with dreams of summer crops
beneath the old apple tree, now barren.
I listen to her breathing, her heartbeat I imagine
like the sound old trains made on victorian railroads

My lady shines with crown of purest gold
and to the light reflected by her pearls
She adds the magic beam of her blue stars
and the breathtaking silver of her soul

My lady in her sleep is without tears
Her dreams sustain her through the valley of sorrow
I listen to her breathing dissipating her fears

and I guard her sleep - none was ever most dear
for I know this to be but a moment I've borrowed
and the end of these dreams can be nothing but near.

Divertimentos de botadura

Resbala el blanco velero
resbala hacia el verde mar.
El viento lo ha de llevar
muy lejos del astillero.

Oh blanco ejemplo de esmero
hecho para navegar:
no lo habra de doblegar
el tifon mas duro y fiero.
-----------------------

The white sailing boat slides
slides towards the green sea.
The wind is to take it away
far away from the shipyard.

O white example of care
made to sail the high seas:
It shall not be deterred
by harsh or fierce typhoon.

Naturaleza muerta

A bird lies dead outside my patio doors
there is no sign of struggle: did he suffer?
An old woman - my neighbour - tends to her budding flowers
with a watering can and a small garden trowel

It is the height of May; I'm having breakfast
The children are awake and watching television
The sun shines from the East. A tabby cat
reaches the top of the fence and with mighty hind legs
propels itself into my garden quietly
and takes away the bird's carcass. I can hear no sound
but that of the television as my children await their breakfast
way, way high in the food chain

The lock keeper

The unkempt and grim abode of the lock keeper
The colourful but dreary canal boats
The men in grey & shabby overcoats
The rush of water in the lock, making it deeper

and fifty years on, the tourist tea shop
families of fours out during Fathers' day
carrying a pot of tea and cream scones in a tray
the canal not a way, just a suitable stop

Castillos en la arena

Mis castillos en la arena
mi corazon en el aire:
abreme los ojos, madre!
que me muero de la pena

Latiendo en mi pecho sueña
y este sueño entra en mi sangre:
Deja que en sueños te guarde!
Que de mi sangre eres dueña

------------------------------
My castles made in the sand
and my heart up in the air:
Open now my eyes, mother!
for I am dying of grief

Beating in my chest it dreams
and its dream enters my blood:
Let me in dreams guard over you!
for you of my blood are the owner

2 Divertimentos climaticos

Ay, ciegame, luz del cielo
porque al ver tanta belleza
la mas oscura tristeza
cubre mi alma con su velo

Corazon, levanta el vuelo
y con valor y fiereza
asalta la fortaleza
de mis penas y desvelos

Vista desde el Bridgewater Hall

Fuente de agua de dia,
de noche espejo de mi alma!
Regalame de tu calma
igual que de tu alegria.
----------------

Fountain of water by day,
By night, mirror of my soul!
Give me the gift of your calm
just as that one of your joy.

Romanzoneto de la torre invencible

Nunca he de rendir la torre
de mi asediado castillo:
he puesto en cada ladrillo
Ideales y fervores

Ergo, Angelica, no llores
cuando el odiado enemigo
haya acabado conmigo
y tomado mis colores

Cuanto eso ocurra, se buena
y ven a visitar mi tumba
entre la mar y la arena!

Oh diosa amada y terrena
sobre mis hijos alumbra
y sobre mis huesos truena!

Divertimento enthomologic

With genuine sense of adventure
and a little bit of sorrow
I wait for the coming morrow
to receive my new dentures

The descent

With simple words I try to build a picture to remember
The river of your laughter under a sky of fire
And two gleaming stars, as deep darkness veils
My sense to all that is real and my journey
Into your unfathomable abyss hereby commences

Dusk in June

Light of the sun
Light of the sun upon our faces
Fly away, fast and skimming the waters
Shine over my love's garden flowers
And blessed be the morning

Silvery moon
Silvery moon behind a cloud so lonely
You bid your time, proud and with severe face
Watch over my love's garden flowers
And blessed be the evening

Haiku

The old olive tree
Snap! Branch hits the ground
dead with the weight of years.

Divertimento de estio

Tome una flor: el sol quemaba
en un domingo de febrero.
Puse la flor en tu sombrero
mientras alegre te besaba.

Divertimento profano

Tus ojos, como dos grandes ventanas
de una iglesia romanica, me miran
y las cosas mundanas se me olvidan
pues las cosas del cielo estan cercanas

Disparate anatomico

Hacer de tripas corazon
y del corazon, higado
y del higado rinones
y de los rinones, vejiga
y de la vejiga, pulmones.

De los pulmones, cancion
y de la cancion, vida
y de la vida, cancion

y de la cancion, pulmones
de los pulmones, vejiga
de la vejiga, rinones
y de los rinones, higado
del higado, corazon
y del corazon, las tripas
y de todo esto, yo.

Vals de la cruel ciruela

Al borde veraniego
de la vereda
he sembrado una planta
de cruel ciruela.

He de darle el abrazo
de parda tierra
He de darle el refresco
del agua buena

Cuando venga el otro an~o
y acabe la espera
Comeremos el fruto
de la cruel ciruela.

Divertimento sicaliptico

Angelica, tu revelas
que amor es mas que canciones:
Sacate ya los calzones
y ponlos entre mis muelas!

Mi barca

Mariposa hecha de vela
Maritima primavera
Golondrina de madera
Que sobre las olas vuela
Con su cancion en mis labios
Circunnavego la tierra.
---------------------
My boat
Butterfly made of sail
Maritime spring
Seagull made of wood
that flies over the waves
With its song in my lips
I sail around the Earth.

Sunshine and showers

The sky is blue, the morning bright
because it rained all bloody night

and every drop of that cold rain
has lodged itself into my brain

The fluffy sheep dot the green field -
When summer comes their wool they'll yield

When autumn comes I'll buy a jumper
but now it's May: I need a hamper

to have a picnic with the ghost
of one I thought forever lost

And sheep and grass and blue sky
will tell me I must forever try

To strike some sort of conversation
with this lost ghost / this small nation.

It didn't come with the morning post

It didn't come with the morning post:
the parcel of your love is lost.
I sat and ate my slice of toast:
as lover I'm more relaxed than most.

The Vldava

O Eva, Eva, songs will be sung about you
As you emerge through clouds of steam
To pour me a capuccino
And for a moment
You see in me
The Vldava
The rowing boats
In sunny May
The german tourists
Sipping beer
The slow and crowded
Urban train
Taking you home
From work or
College from
Home or
Work from
College
And so on
Like an old broken record
Until your dreams stopped it
And you emerged triumphant from a cloud of steam
To serve me a coffee at a railway station
While snow fell outside
Far, far from the Vldava

KM

I think I know so many things
But when I come to write them down

I cannot cover half the ground
before I run out of steam

Proverb

The hardest thing regarding coaching:
to turn game-keeping into poaching

Divertimento retornello

Angelica, largo tiempo
trate de olvidar tu boca -
mas no es tan fuerte la roca
como el mar, el sol y el viento.

Haiku

The golden chandelier
Click! the light switch
morning is near

Change management limerick

I met a man who coped with change
by careful planning of revenge:
He would dream of his master
his head covered in plaster
after crashing - head first - with a wrench

Polvo en los espejos

El polvo acumulado en los espejos
es imposible verlo muy de lejos

Solo cuando mis ojos
ya cansados y viejos
se escudan en modernos bifocales

Alcanzo a ver las senhales
que dejan los inmortales
nombres que pululan estas paginas.

Divertimento navegado

Dos linternas que brillan en la bruma
blancas velas henchidas en el viento
el peso de tu casco en mi mar siento
y tus ojos en la punta de mi pluma.

Divertimentos navidenos

Vaca, oveja, gallina, gris piajeno
se acurrucan al costado de una cuna:
se diria que conocen su fortuna
al brindar su calor al Nazareno

El angel del Senor, con su trompeta
anuncia el nacimiento: los pastores
han dejado junto al fuego sus temores
y han bajado a Belen con sus ovejas

La luz que hoy ilumina las tinieblas
nacio de una mujer en una gruta
en Belen de Judea: santa fruta -
su pequena semilla el cielo puebla

Mas divertimentos huachafos

Dame, Angelica, una noche
y que la luz de la luna
abrillante mi fortuna
de amor para hacer derroche

Dame, Angelica, una noche
a orillas de tu laguna
tu voz con mi voz auna
mientras nos vamos en coche

Divertimentos lluviosos y huachafos

Angelica, dame un dia
para libar de tus flores
y entregarte mis amores
y beber tus alegrias

Angelica, dame un dia
y cuando acabe, no llores
ni entregues a tus temores
la direccion de tu vida

La lluvia que es tonta y cruel
moja los campos que ayer
el sol de agosto quemaba

y va a parar en el rio
asi como el llanto mio
de pensar cuanto te amaba

Arte de la guerra

Angélica, cargo a cuestas
el peso de tu bandera
mientras cabalgo a la guerra
con la armadura ya puesta



Angélica, por mí apuesta!
Pronuncia firme mi nombre!
Oro empeña por el hombre
que dispara tu ballesta!

Angélica, voy herido
por resguardar tu secreto
y por vigilar tus leyes.

Dime que te soy querido
vivo tanto como muerto:
Angélica, no me niegues!

Lamento

Vivo mi amor en suenos que destruyen
Mi suerte es la que toca
a los cobardes, a los que huyen

Las gotas de esta lluvia se derraman
en las alcantarillas de mi alma

Divertimento victoriano

La barca que carbon lleva
navega por el canal
lo lleva al borde del mar
pero en el borde se queda

after a week of constant rain

The sun is shining once again
after a week of constant rain

And on the streets I can see smiles
stretching for several miles

All marching west towards the sun
marching like robots on the run

they carry on as far as Formby
an army of rain-escaping zombies.

Alergia de vida

Tengo alergia de vida
Tengo ronchas de emocion
Mis ojeras se proyectan hacia el cielo
Mi barbilla es un jardin de cactus

En la noche tu recuerdo ha viajado
Como ardiente comida por mi boca
mi garganta, el duodeno
el irritable colon, y lo demas es historia

y ahora yerto en la cama tengo alergia
de vida, ronchas
en el corazon, un jardin
espinoso y dos lagunas
secas mirando al cielo

Spring springs

The winter's gone: I want to sing
praise to the coming of the spring

The daffodils in yellow bloom
wipe out the darkened clouds of gloom

The bees fly loaded to their hive
but there is joy in their strife

the starlings fly for miles and miles
to nest beneath my house roof tiles

And so, again, the winter ends
and God his wind of colour sends

The summer rain will bid its time
and give me excuse for a new rhyme

and then the clouds will reappear
towards the end of the new year

Some men will follow Mother Eagle

Some men will follow Mother Eagle
I like to watch my sister seagull
fly true n' straight to the horizon
Some like to follow brother bison
close to extinction: I'd much rather
follow on the footsteps of my father
and perch my nest upon a mountain
next to a stream and to a fountain
from which to drink melted snow
to then continue with the show.

Limerick

I met a man from Peru
who looked remarkably like you:
When his wife wasn't near
he would have a cold beer.
When his wife was around he'd have two.

One virtue

One virtue in the whole world, is all I ask
One virtue in the wide world: what will it be?
One virtue will forever set me free
and will allow me to complete my task

Divertimento

La manana me regala con colores
pero el cielo, celoso, hace que llueva.
Mas la lluvia es mi amiga: ella renueva
el color que hay en tus ojos, y en las flores.

Sol y sombra

Tu eras para mi
el sol de la manana
y ese que larga sombra da en la tarde
y aquel que se adivina cuando arde
mas alla de horizontes y ventanas

hoy no eres sino la luna deleznable
la luz del sol te robas cuando puedes
no te extrane, mujer, que ahora te niegue
el que ayer se te mostrara tan amable

Divertimento maldito

Angelica, vengo a verte
con la esperanza encendida –
se que eres fruta prohibida
pero el deseo es mas fuerte.

Angelica, dame muerte:
comparte mi acto de vida.
Dame en tu puerto cabida
y refugiame en tu fuerte.

Ven, captura mis canhones!
y gana asi la batalla
entre nuestros corazones!

Yo he de cantarte canciones
cuando mi barco se vaya
vacio ya de emociones!

Divertimento barroco

Escarcha de la manhana
que cubre el campo y que brilla
bajo la luz amarilla
que el sol de diciembre emana.

Escarcha, tu lucha es vana:
no has de durar todo el dia –
brillando entregas tu vida:
lo que reflejas te danha.

A la luz que te ilumina
devuelves lo que es prestado:
tu hermosura pasajera.

La noche, paciente, espera
para acogerte en el prado –
tu historia nunca culmina.

The promised land is not for me

The promised land is not for me
For me the uncommitted sea
the heart beat of the waves

The promised land is not for me
for me the sky both blue and free
or overcast and gray

The promised land is not for me
rather the desert my home forever be
my bed will be the sand

Haiku

Dormita la gaviota
El ruido de la lancha
La despierta

Haiku

La antigua chimenea
Columna de humo blanco
Tenue idea

Printer jam

The paper, crampled and forlorn
with the black marks of printer ink
has made me stop and briefly think
of sad events that here went on.

I knew to you only I belonged
though you to me were like a sphinx
or like to a mouse a sly old lynx
that for amusement quietly longed.

To show my love and appreciation
to paper I committed a short poem
that broke my heart's incarceration

But you my poem rejected - now the nation
is never going to share in the amusement
of this small office infatuation.

The days are growing long

The days are growing long
It'll soon be summer time!
I will be singing songs
not writing silly rhymes...

Vida latina

A los pies del Panteon bebi en tu fuente
y saque de tus aguas nuevas fuerzas
para enfrentarme otra vez a las perversas
dudas que se aduenhan de mi mente.

y ya el sol de la tarde, lentamente
llena el cielo de Roma con su fuego
pero yo lo combato y lo aniego
al beber de tus aguas: mucha gente

ha llegado hasta aqui para ver ruinas
pero yo en tu Panteon bebi tu historia
de cupulas, columnas y hornacinas

tan augusta bebida me encamina
a cumplir mi destino: oscura gloria
de una tarde ya moderna, ya latina.

Haiku a Alex Millones

la roja flor meciendose en el viento
la abeja que se aleja
presintiendo el otonho!

Chinese meal

I'm in the restaurant and ask for the bill
for my fried rice and spare ribs
then pay with visa -- and add a tip
and make the most of their good will

I then go, slowly, back to the mill
already yearning for my meal of tomorrow
Eating chinese will be a rest from my sorrow:
my burden burns under the grill...

The little old office squabbles
The bitter fighting for resources
The projects bursting like soap bubbles

All is forgotten for one long hour
while I eat rice with various sauces
and spare ribs, all sweet and sour

While waiting for the dentist to emerge from her cubicle, triumphant
after another successdul encounter with someone else's teeth
I sit in the waiting room and grab a 1997 reader's digest
and try not to remember the low pitch sound of drilling
the taste of bone turned dust and watered down with mouthwash
which I'll later spit, before sitting back down and opening my mouth for yet another round

Say no more

Say no more: that is best
time will take care of the rest

Say no more: that is fair
dreams will vanish in thin air

Say no more: grin your teeth
The sword has come out of its sheath

A cloud over the sands

How many times I've been to the spring for water
Often I took along the next available vessel
Seldom did I take notice: all that mattered
was to deal with my thirst and find comfort
to combat the summer heat and the lack of rain
inherent to the desert.

A word from you has changed all that
A thick black cloud over the sands
menacing in other contexts, here you are
all promise
the moisture of your lips, the thunder
of your laughter, the starred night sky
of your eyes, the moonlit dunes of your rediscovered body.

Monte de nieve

monte de nieve
inciertos pasos
la avalancha

Se oculta el sol

El sol se oculta en el oeste
de rojo baña el cielo celeste

por el oeste se va este día
se va a alumbrar la patria mía

Se oculta el sol allende el mar
me deja aqui, a soñar y amar

Escapism

the seagull yells: you, in despair
lament your distance from the sea
the sea where you would like to be
moved by the scent of salty air

but to get there steps are needed
across the town, over the bridge:
walk up the slope, get to the ridge
don't let your thirst for sea go un-heeded

make your descend with feet and hands
feeling your way down the rough cliff
refreshed b'the spray of crashing waves

below the ridge there lies the sand
where you will lie, toil turned to bliss,
dream-eyed and quietly awake.

Pillar and post

Between the pillar and the post
I waited for my bus to arrive
but the darned thing wouldn't come:
its driver must'ave got lost.

I waited for the sun to set
between a rock and a hard place -
for 'nights' always follow 'days':
on that you can always bet.

Divertimento paterno

Sobre una esfera de plata
Sonriente brilla la luna
Pero el corazón me mata
Por llegar pronto a tu cuna.

Thick rain

I find it hard not to hear your voice
Your voice carries far
Like the whistling of trains

and you have that rich laughter
just as fresh as thick rain
in the middle of summer

Rain that settles the dust
Rain that glimmers on flowers

I can hear your voice
like a bell on a tower.

Blue skies

I find it difficult not to look at you:
For a start, there's no one else in view

and your hair is blonde
and your eyes are blue

They remind me of the skies
in the heights of Peru.

To fly

To learn
To fly
To travel far
To dance under the weight of a heart left behind
To wake up to the light of a new heart that's waiting
To complete a journey
To begin a journey
To live

Head

Stern and somber, the sculptured head
stares at me from the top of the bookshelf.
Its gaze is neither full of remorse, nor of recrimination -
My brother made it as part of his education:
The model sat there, for hours naked
My brother says she was in fact uglier than the sculpture
and rather bored. I never knew the true person.

Jungle tangle

In the depths of the jungle
Where dusk engulfs the river
one's head fills up with a fever
one's heart gets in a tangle

In-flight entertainment

My heart is filled with much emotion
as the large plane is set in motion
and takes up to the sky. Later
the hours go by dreadfully slowly
I play cards with my neighbour, eat my meals
as they are offered, read a book
and watch the in-flight entertainment.

Volver

El día es largo y es oscuro
y yo lo llevo sin apuro

y es que al final hay esperanza
que crece mientras el día avanza

El día es largo como sombras
que el sol proyecta y la tarde nombra

Sombras que viven en mi memoria
que es agua y pozo y cordel y noria.

At dawn, at dusk

At dawn, at dusk, or when the rain is near
I give myself to awe, dispair and fear

At dawn, at dusk, when dreams do not abide
and the heart empties, an inlet at low tide

At dawn, at dusk, when clouds seem to catch fire
the waves of day and night wash over my desires

At dawn, at dusk, sleeping or awake
The things I care about are at stake