Septihambre
translated from the Spanish by Carina del Valle Schorske
Between August and surf season
is dead time in Rincón. Most shops shut down.
There’s a ban on catching grouper, crab, and conch.
The fishermen spend Sundays singing
karaoke salsa classics on the public beach,
their voices trained by salt and resignation.
The reef rests, regenerates. The seafloor is a neon feast.
Elkhorn corals celebrate, turtles come close to shore.
But the people suffer scarcity.
Luckily, the fruit trees flourish.
Locals trade bananas, breadfruit, green plantains.
This year the avocado harvest was abundant.
At any moment a hurricane might strike.
Septihambre
Después de agosto
y antes de la temporada de surfing,
en Rincón es tiempo muerto.
Muchos negocios cierran durante esta época.
Hay veda de juey, de mero y de carrucho.
Los pescadores se reúnen los domingos en el balneario
a cantar clásicos de salsa en el karaoke,
sus voces entrenadas a fuerza de resignación y sal.
El arrecife descansa, se regenera.
El fondo del mar es un festín neón.
Celebran las palmatas
y las tortugas se acercan a la orilla.
Pero la gente padece la escasez.
Por suerte abundan los árboles frutales.
Se hace trueque de guineos, panas, plátanos.
Este año la cosecha de aguacates fue abundante.
En cualquier momento puede azotar un huracán.
Copyright © 2026 by Nicole Cecilia Delgado. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 14, 2026, by the Academy of American Poets.
“‘Septihambre,’ a wordplay on the words September and hambre, ‘hunger’, is part of a larger body of unpublished work about my personal relationship with swimming in the ocean, in contrast to the tension between environmental renewal and human hardship in coastal Puerto Rico. The poem reflects broader topics of displacement, vulnerability, and resilience, documenting the realities of island life without romanticizing them. While the reef regenerates and fruit trees flourish, local residents face uncertainty, relying on community exchange and generosity to survive. Between tropical abundance, economic struggle, and the climate crisis, it celebrates the enduring strength of a people who resist, adapt, and remain.”
—Nicole Cecilia Delgado
“Like the salsas the fishermen sing, ‘Septihambre’ renders lyric beauty from survival’s contradictions. I’ve been translating Nicole’s pastoral poems for many years, and I’m still enchanted by how fluidly her voice moves between perspectives, always humane but never anthropocentric. Even when our interests seem to diverge, this is a shared biosphere, and we must weather the coming storms together. The gaze of this poem—at once clear and refracted, like sunlight in reef shallows—teaches us how to regard our future, both what is dying and what can still be scavenged.”
—Carina del Valle Schorske
Nicole Cecilia Delgado
