On the journey from Pucón, a world-weary man
Can only just see that the geese have plumes quite strange
To his North American eye;
Their tangerine beaks, too, serve as reminders that
A battle rages though he has for a brief time
Managed a respite --to gather;
She is at the station with her plaintive offer
Of a room, a room and a comfortable home
A place to feel welcome, wanted;
To his North American eye;
Their tangerine beaks, too, serve as reminders that
A battle rages though he has for a brief time
Managed a respite --to gather;
She is at the station with her plaintive offer
Of a room, a room and a comfortable home
A place to feel welcome, wanted;
Her proper dress, motherly pride, and simple smile:
She, too, has worries and is in need of kindness;
Solitude, old age, await her;
Sleepy Valdivia cradles the two for now
With needed ease of warm sleep untroubled by dreams
That will only die anyway;
She, too, has worries and is in need of kindness;
Solitude, old age, await her;
Sleepy Valdivia cradles the two for now
With needed ease of warm sleep untroubled by dreams
That will only die anyway;
It is nearly Christmas; solstice stretches the days;
Los lobos del mar sleep in the sun and then swim
Gobbling fish while the strange geese float;
The Catholic girls playing music in the square--
They laugh when he cheers; they're too shy to meet his grin;
For a time, he likes being strange;
They laugh when he cheers; they're too shy to meet his grin;
For a time, he likes being strange;
Three days pass like the glory of a well-spent youth
And he must board the south-bound bus for Puerto Montt;
She goes with him to the station;
She must find a new tenant for the empty room;
He must begin his journey back to the front line;
She smiles, waving as the bus leaves;
Her kindness and understated desperation
Leave an indelible mark on his lonely heart:
She is running...waving...smiling...
And he must board the south-bound bus for Puerto Montt;
She goes with him to the station;
She must find a new tenant for the empty room;
He must begin his journey back to the front line;
She smiles, waving as the bus leaves;
Her kindness and understated desperation
Leave an indelible mark on his lonely heart:
She is running...waving...smiling...
No comments:
Post a Comment