SWEET SECTIONS OF SKY - A conversation in two languages

Si amas la libertad de tus ojos es que sabes que tu mirada es “el paisaje”. Que tu retina recoja todo el azul profuso que habita el cielo. Porque el azul de tus ojos no profana silencios y tus palabras son dulces como lenta floración de asfódelos. Que descubran tus ojos la vigencia del vacío, el valor de lo invisible en las vísceras del cielo.
By Santiago Aguadad - in reply to

This morning I woke to find the jacaranda blossoms, a soft blue that runs into purple, have been arranged by the wind onto the green lawn in our garden. I can see the curved shadow they caste, and the blue mauve on the grass is like sweet sections of sky that the tree has fished down.

Later I went for a long walk following the ridge that runs around the bay, to the middle headland that extends into the harbour. At first I notice just one, then dozens, then hundreds of white butterflies which have emerged from the wild heath land. They are powder white, with black edges, and so many of them travelling in casual pairs that I can watch their shadows on the pathway, and the whole air is laced and woven with their movement – which is fabulously incessant and erratic. They ride the wind, beat madly, fly straight up, they go sideways and backwards, and for an hour they don’t stop. When I get back to my house they are starting to settle on the spring flowers- the callistemon and grevilleas. The blue sky is flecked white with them like they are impossible animated snow. I can’t think or talk properly for watching them.

I am reading Antonia Porcia “I am chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of my eyes.” I like very much the freedom of my eyes.

Carol Jenkins

PARIENTES PROTESICOS

Él ha perdido todo sus miembros
y trece de sus parientes.

Como pasó fue así

El perdió su brazo
sobre el autobús, una pierna cayó cuando
perseguía el autobús.
La otra pierna paseó por sí misma
por la noche, el último brazo lo sintió puesto
Y desapareció después del desayuno.

Perdón, esto fue mentira

Ellos fueron destruidos
por una bomba americana
que cuesta 27 dólares
Rasgados, shredded en un guisado
espeluznante de detrito
que se mezcla con los órganos esenciales
de los trece parientes hechos explotar


Trece parientes

Pienso en mis dos niños,
un marido, una hermana,
tres hermanos, una madre, un padre
y no es suficiente,
Voy a casa de mi sobrino mayor,
mi sobrina más joven, mi tía favorita,
mi primo, tres meses más joven que yo,
a los siete y ocho años éramos dobles perfectos, el mismo peso, la altura, la puerta grande para tres carreras pedestres.

In un gesto de generosidad y reparación
los Británicos le han provisto
De brazos y piernas prostéticos,
Nuevos manos prostéticas
Que se abren y cierran,

ellos trabajan
sobre parientes prostéticos.


Translated into Spanish by Santiago Aguadad.


Prosthetic Relatives


He has lost all his limbs
and thirteen of his relatives

How it happened was this

He left his arm
on the bus, a leg fell off when
he was running after the bus
The other leg wandered off by itself
in the night, the last arm felt put upon
and disappeared after breakfast

No sorry, that was a lie
They were blown off
by an american bomb
that cost $27 US dollars
Ripped, shredded into a lurid
stew of detritus
combining with the essential organs of
the thirteen exploded relatives

Thirteen relatives

I think of my two children,
one husband, one sister
three brothers, one mother, one father
not enough,
I go to my eldest nephew,
my youngest niece, my favourite aunt
my cousin, three months younger than
me, at seven and eight we were a double of
sorts, same weight, height, gate
great for three legged races

In a gesture of generosity and reparation
the British have provided
him with prosthetic arms and legs,
brand new prosthetic hands
that open and close,

they are working
on prosthetic relatives.



First published in Overland 178.



With thanks to Santiago Aguadad, who lives in Heuvla.