Andean Poetry: Aguila Sidereal, American Love, Lapoderosamuerte
Aguila Sidereal
Aguila sidereal vineyard haze
stronghold lost scimitar blind
Aguila sidereal
Belt starry solemn bread
Snake mineral, pink stone
Cordillera essential marine roof
Dome of Silence, pure country
Bouquet of salt, black cherry wings
Silver wave, direction of time
Aguila sidereal Andean snake
Aguila sidereal moon quartz
Aguila sidereal, bride of the sea
SideralAguila Aguila sidereal
Down to Me, Brother
Down to me brother
Give me your hand from the deep zone
Spread your pain
Not return from the bottom of the rocks
Never again, weather underground
Not return your voice hardened
Your eyes you will not drilled
Down to me brother
Look at me from the depths of the earth
Farmer, weaver, reticent shepherd
Tamer llamas
Mason scaffold
Waterboy of Andean tears
Jeweler with crushed fingers
Farmer anxious among his seedlings
Potter’s clay in his shed
Bring me the cup of this new life
Your ancient buried sorrows
Down to me brother
Show me your blood and your furrow
Tell me here I was punished
Because the gem was dull
Land or not delivered on time
The stone or the grain
Point out that the stone fell
And wood on which they crucified
Show me the old flints
The old lights up the whips glued
Through the centuries in the wounds
And the axes gleaming with your blood
I come to speak through your dead mouth
Tell me the whole string to string
Link by link, step by step
Sharpen the knives you kept
Put them in my chest and my hand
Like a river of yellow lightning
Like a river of buried jaguars
And let me mourn
Hours, days, years
Blind ages
Buried centuries.
American Love
Come up with me, American love
Kiss me the secret stones.
Torrential silver of the Urubamba
Pollen blows his yellow cup.
Fly the emptiness of the vine
The silver stone, hard garland
Box on the silence of mountain.
Love, love, until the evening abruptly
Flint from the sound Andean
Knees to the dawn of red
Provides the blind son of the snow.
Oh, the sound Wilkamayu thread
When you break your thunder linear
In white foam, like wounded snow,
When you wind cliff
Sings and punishes raised to heaven,
What language do you bring to your ear just
Andean uprooted from your foam?
Love, love, do not touch the border
Nor worship the black head
Let the time meeting his stature
In his room broken springs,
And between the fast water and the walls,
Collects air from the gorge
The parallel plates of wind
Blind channel ranges,
The rough greeting dew
And up, flower crops, through the thicket
Stepping on the snake cliff.
Come to my self, my dawn,
Until crowned solitude
The dead kingdom still lives.
Lapoderosamuerte
Lapoderosamuerte What was man?
What part of your conversation open
Between stores and whistles,
Which of their metal movements
Lived the indestructible,
Imperishable,
Life?
All have fainted
Waiting for his death
Death his short daily
And every day ominous breakdown
It was like drinking a glass shaking black
Then up the ladder I climbed the stone
Among the awful tangle of lost jungles
To you, Macchu Picchu
High city of stepped stone
At last earthly abode of that
Never hidden in her sleeping clothes.
In you, like two parallel lines
The cradle of lightning and man
Swaying in the wind of thorns.
Mother of stone and sperm of condors
High reef of the human dawn.
When the color of clay hand
Clay became
And when small eyelids
Closed
Filled with rough walls
Castle towns
And when the whole man
Became entangled in his hole
Accuracy was hoisted:
The high places of the human dawn:
The highest vessel that held his silence
Stone life after so many lives.