H
e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s
b e r g
N
a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i
v e s E d i t i o n
RON RODRIGUEZ
Prelude in
Boricua
––by Luis
Pales Matos
Tuntun of raisin and
kinky hair
And other black African vanities.
Uproar of black secret societies
Where its warm tobacco water
Supports the wild Congolese drums.
With the cackling of the maraca
And the deaf growl of the gong,
The island curtain detaches
A drunken aristocracy
Based on funche and mondongo.
The solemn Haitian shaman
Opposes the habanera rumba
It’s serenade of shoulders and thighs,
Meanwhile the black Cuban
Tames the wild mulatta.
From your drinking spree through the runways
Cuba flies, it’s sails let loose,
Recovering in its thighs
Its golden Niagara of tourists.
(Tomorrow they will be shareholders
Of any ingenious cane grower
And will carry on with the money…)
And in a corner- the land, the bay,
The embankment or sugarcane field-
The Negro drinks his cold sorrow
Stupefied in the melodies
That comes from faraway.
Jamaica, that fat mandinga,
Reduces her lingo to a spicy stew.
Santo Domingo dresses up
And in an impotent civic gesture
Its heroic muse replies
With a hundred odes to the president.
With his wagon full of sesame seeds
And his magical white eyes
Towards the market comes Haiti.
(Translation by Ron Rodriguez)
Prelude in
Boricua
––by Luis
Pales Matos
The windward Antilles
Have tremendous anxiety
Beating out the cyclones
With fly swatters from the palm trees.
And Puerto Rico? My desert
island,
For you everything has finished.
In the wilderness of a continent,
Puerto Rico lugubriously
Bleats like a stuffed goat.
Tuntun of raisin and
kinky hair,
This book that goes towards your hands
With Antillean ingredients
Composes a day…
…and in summary, wasted
time,
That my boredom ends.
Something foreseen or foretold,
Not visibly real
And very much a story or a lie.
(Translation by Ron Rodriguez)
[Originally
published in NHS 2009, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs09/Ron_Rodriguez.htm.]