LOS DESGRACIADOS

There is a lost language somewhere inside my skull. It was the first language I spoke, and the first language I forgot completely, at the age of five, in an effort to adjust to life in a new land, in order to fit in, to belong to this place that would become my home. I do try, when I can, to use it, to read works in Spanish out loud to myself in order to reawaken its music in my head, and thankfully, it comes back to me in fits and starts, in dreams, in bursts of remembering, and when spanish speaking people are kind enough to speak with me and encourage me to reconnect with this long lost piece of who I am. This poem, Los Desgraciados, the title of which I once saw interpreted as "The Wretched of the Earth" was written by Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo, and the English translation I give here was written by Sandy McKinney. Ya va a venir el día; da cuerda a tu brazo, búscate debajo del colchón, vuelve a pararte en tu cabeza, para andar derecho. Ya va a venir el día, ponte el saco. Ya va a venir el día; ten fuerte en la mano a tu intestino grande, reflexiona, antes de meditar, pues es horrible cuando le cae a uno la desgracia y se le cae a uno a fondo el diente. Necesitas comer, pero, me digo, no tengas pena, que no es de pobres la pena, el sollozar junto a su tumba; remiéndale, recuerda, confía en tu hilo blanco, fuma, pasa lista a tu cadena y guárdala detrás de tu retrato. Ya va a venir el día, ponte el alma. Ya va a venir el día; pasan, han abierto en el hotel un ojo, azotándolo, dándole con un espejo tuyo... ¿Tiemblas? Es el estado remoto de la frente y la nación reciente del estómago. Roncan aún... ¡Qué universo se lleva este ronquido! ¡Cómo quedan tus poros, enjuiciándolo! ¡Con cuántos doses ¡ay! estás tan solo! Ya va a venir el día, ponte el sueño. Ya va a venir el día, repito por el órgano oral de tu silencio y urge tomar la izquierda con el hambre y tomar la derecha con la sed; de todos modos, abstente de ser pobre con los ricos, atiza tu frío, porque en él se integra mi calor, amada víctima. Ya va a venir el día, ponte el cuerpo. Ya va a venir el día; la mañana, la mar, el meteoro, van en pos de tu cansancio, con banderas, y, por tu orgullo clásico, las hienas cuentan sus pasos al compás del asno, la panadera piensa en ti, el carnicero piensa en ti, palpando el hacha en que están presos el acero y el hierro y el metal; jamás olvides que durante la misa no hay amigos. Ya va a venir el día, ponte el sol. Ya viene el día; dobla el aliento, triplica tu bondad rencorosa y da codos al miedo, nexo y énfasis, pues tú, como se observa en tu entrepierna y siendo el malo ¡ay! inmortal, has soñado esta noche que vivías de nada y morías de todo... The day's about to come; wind up your arm, look for yourself underneath the mattress, turn and stand on your head, in order to walk straight. The day's about to come, put on your coat. The day's about to come; grab your gut tight in your hand, reflect before you meditate, so it's awful when misery overtakes you and some tooth sinks down into you to the depths. You have to eat, but I tell myself, don't grieve, that's not for the poor, grief and sobbing by the tomb; patch yourself together, remember, trust your white thread, smoke, check up on your chain and hide it behind your portrait. The day's about to come, put on your soul. The day's about to come; they're going by, they've opened up an eye in the hotel, banging on it, flashing your mirror at it . . . Are you trembling? It's the remote state of the forehead and the recent nation of the stomach. They're still snoring . . . What universe puts up with this snore? The way your pores stay there, judging it! With so many twos, ay, you're so alone! The day's about to come, put on your dream. The day's about to come, I repeat through the oral organ of your silence and the urge to turn left with hunger and right with thirst; in any case stop being poor with the rich, stir up your cold, because within it is mixed my warmth, beloved victim. The day's about to come, put on you body. The day's about to come; the morning, the sea, the meteor, are going after your exhaustion with banners, and by your classic pride, the hyenas count their steps to be in time with the ass, the baker's wife is thinking of you, the butcher is thinking of you, fingering the hatchet in which are imprisoned the steel and the iron and the metal; never forget that during the Mass there are no friends. The day's about to come, put on the sun. The day is here; double your breaths, triple your rancorous goodwill and give the elbow to fear, nix and exclamation point; well, you, as your crotch shows, and being a bad one, ay, immortal, have dreamed this night that you were living on nothing and dying from everything.

Category:

Music

Tags:

• lost
• language
• new
• world
• poetry
• cesar
• vallejo
• surrealist
• imagist
• compassionate
• identification
• with
• suffering
• memory
• loss
• retrieval
• the
• day
• is
• going
• to
• come

[NicolaRedwooddforest]

O.K, now I get it, Medicinesocks is 2 people, Rachael and Norman. Beautiful poem!

[medicinesocks]

@NicolaRedwooddforest

Thank you Nicola. Yes, indeed we are two people. Norman is m by far the more photogenic and theatrical of the two of us, a performance artist by avocation. I am much shyer, the camera operator and editor of these videos, a behind the scenes sort of person usually, but in this case I wanted very much to share the words of this beautiful poet Vallejo, whose striking imagery and troubled message spoke to something deep in me.

[NicolaRedwooddforest]

@medicinesocks Hello Rachael, You are very photogenic. You both are photogenic. Are you brother and sister? You speak very free and without fear. I have so much fear when I make videos, it gets in my way of bringing my message across, because the audience wants people with high self esteem. ;0)

[medicinesocks]

@NicolaRedwooddforest This medium creates a persona that is not the real me. I like, but I barely recognise the voice and image that is meant here to represent me, lol. Visually It is a framed moment I liked out of a sequence of awkward, unappealing frames of my face, lol. When making videos I feel pretty free, though, you're right about that. I assume no one is paying attention, that's liberating, if anyone does, they dont have to think it's great lol. Norman is my lover, not my brother x)

[cottonseedbks]

wow beautiful readings

[medicinesocks]

thank you cottonseed, much love

[glentendo64]

wow

[gianlucca25]

I like it, but when translating to another language, the poem loses some significance. For example, it is not twos, but twelves. Vallejo refers to midnights. If you read,"La Cena Miserable." you will see. Thank you, Im learning with your translation. Im a very big fun of Vallejo because Im peruvian, and I did my thesis on Hispanic Literature of Cesar Vallejo.

[NicolaRedwooddforest]

@medicinesocks Hello Rachael, It's so good that you are free emotionally when you make videos. No, your face does not appear awkward nor unappealing. You are very pretty and elegant looking. You mentioned in one of the videos that you are a Shaman? I am highly interested in hearing about healing stories and special abilities. I saw right away that you are very sensitive and intuitive. Like me.

[Psychedalien]

ME ENCATA ESTE VIDEO, PRECIOSO. TU ESPAÑOL ES MARAVILLOSO 10/10

Me ENCANTA TO CARA Y TU VOZ!!!!!