Saturday, January 17, 2009


I almost posted this for Sunday Scribblings pilgrimage prompt: an old faux translation of Neruda's "Galopando en el sur."


The convent's tongues are quarantined
In the corridors of Malleco
Camped in the wash of time
The air verdant, electric: pristine.

Stones triangle the regions of heart
An aviary south of the quiet sea
Water written in earth
Perdition down a long saffron land.

You leave us in a flood of tears
A jaguar flood - eternal
A horse in flight - pegasus
All the seas in a flood of disillusion
Lost and reconstructed
In september dreams
In movement through rushing time
In the shadow of horse and dream

Call the shadow of your dream, silence
Find joy in the region of lost hearts
The grand solitude of ocean draws nigh
In the corridors of Malleco.

a wild deviation from Neruda's "Galopando en el sur"



Blogger Devil Mood said...

I guess there are many more pilgrimages out there than it may seem at first.

And deviations sound like a lot more fun than translations.

11:38 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Indubitably so, DM. Indubitably.

12:19 PM  
Blogger b said...

Oh my, this was truly lovely.


2:20 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you, b.

2:53 PM  
Blogger anno said...

Such a feast you are offering this week! None of that dry bread or lukewarm water, the usual pilgrimage fare, but the taste of yearning, the finest wine.

8:27 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Anno: mil gracias, amiga.

10:07 PM  
Blogger Tammie Lee said...

Hello Sir,
these line call to my heart and remind me of something timely:
Call the shadow of your dream, silence
Find joy in the region of lost hearts

as always your words touch deep

12:15 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you, Tammie.

5:31 AM  
Blogger San said...

Nice mingling of the elements of water and air and earth. Fired by the deviance of departure.

4:08 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

San: It was fun playing with Neruda in my own faux-demented (or is that just plain demented?) way.

5:42 AM  

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