by HAUNTIE

That I could be this human at this time
breathing, looking, seeing, smelling

That I could be this moment at this time
resting, calmly moving, feeling

That I could be this excellence at this time
sudden, changed, peaceful, & woke

To all my friends who have been with me in weakness
when water falls rush down my two sides

To all my friends who have felt me in anguish
when this earthen back breaks between the crack of two blades

To all my friends who have held me in rage
when fire tears through swallows behind tight grins

I know you
I see you 
I hear you

Although the world is silent around you

I know you
I see you 
I hear you

I am yours as the summer air at evening is
Possessed by the scent of linden blossoms,

As the snowcap gleams with light
Lent it by the brimming moon.

Without you I'd be an unleafed tree
Blasted in a bleakness with no Spring.

Your love is the weather of my being.
What is an island without the sea?

^{translated from the Spanish by Michael Bazzett}

My mother’s milk fed me no Castilian
when I came into this world.

My language was born among trees,
it holds the taste of earth;
my ancestors’ tongue is my home.

And if I use this language that is not mine,
I do it as someone using a new key
to open another door and enter another world
where words have other voices,
a different way of feeling the earth.

This language holds the memory of pain,
and I speak it without fear or shame
because it was paid for
with the blood of my ancestors.

In this new language
I show the flowers of my song,
bring the taste of other sorrows,
the shades of different joys…

This tongue is just one more key
for singing the old song of my blood.

El Canto Viejo de la Sangre

Yo no mamé la lengua castellana
cuando llegué al mundo.

Mi lengua nació entre árboles
y tiene sabor de tierra;
la lengua de mis abuelos es mi casa.

Y si uso esta lengua que no es mía,
lo hago como quien usa una llave nueva
y abre otra puerta y entra a otro mundo
donde las palabras tienen otra voz
y otra moda de sentir la tierra.

Esta lengua es el recuerdo de un dolor
y la hablo sin temor ni vergüenza
porque fue comprada
con la sangre de mis ancestros.

En esta nueva lengua
te muestro las flores de mi canto,
te traigo el sabor de otras tristezas
y el color de otras alegrías…

Esta lengua es solo una llave más
para cantar el canto viejo de mi sangre.