Vows
by Jim Harrison
I feel my failure intensely
as if it were a vital organ
the gods grew from the side of my head.
You can’t cover it with a hat and I no longer
can sleep on that side it’s so tender.
I wasn’t quite faithful enough
to carry this sort of weight up the mountain.
When I took my vows at nineteen
I had no idea that gods were so merciless.
Fear makes for good servants
and bravery is fraudulent. When I awoke
I wasn’t awake enough.
A Variation on Machado
by Jim Harrison
I worry much about the suffering
of Machado. I was only one when he carried
his mother across the border from Spain to France
in a rainstorm. She died and so did he
a few days later in a rooming house along a dry canal.
To carry Mother he abandoned a satchel
holding his last few years of poetry.
I’ve traveled to Collioure several times
to search for Machado’s lost satchel.
The French fed him but couldn’t save him.
There’s no true path to a death —
we discover the path by walking.
We turn a corner on no road
and there’s a house on a green hill
with a thousand colorful birds sweeping in a circle.
Are the poems in the basement of the house on the hill?
We’ll find out if we remember earth at all.
Streetcar, San Francisco
by Daisy Zamora
Streetcar, San Francisco
translated from Spanish by George Evans
A black guy shakes an empty potato chip can
begging for coins,
another guy seeks conversation from his wheelchair:
— Patrick, my name is Patrick.
— And I’m Mary, says a poor fat girl with curly hair.
A Chinese woman clutching her bag of onions with resignation,
an old philosopher engrossed in Kant,
a skinhead gay with earrings and blue sunglasses,
a happy secretary, withered poppy,
with her reward for thirty years service to a bank:
a cheap ring and some flowers.
A young woman executive observes her with scorn,
a tired bureaucrat naps . . .
Each one a soul adrift
in this aimless voyage
that suddenly ends.
Streetcar, San Francisco
El negro agita un tarro vacío de potato chips
suplicando monedas,
otro, busca conversación desde su silla de ruedas:
— Patrick, me llamo Patrick.
—Y yo Mary, dice la pobre muchacha gorda y colochona.
La china carga resignada su bolsa de cebollas,
el viejo filósofo ensimismado en Kant,
un gay rapado con aretes y gafas azules,
la secretaria feliz, amapola marchita,
premiada por sus treinta años de servicio al banco
con un anillo barato y unas flores.
La joven ejecutiva que la observa con sorna,
el burócrata cansado que dormita . . .
Cada quién con su alma a la deriva
en este viaje sin rumbo
que de pronto termina.
When I See Them Passing By
by Daisy Zamora
When I See Them Passing By
translated from Spanish by George Evans
When I see them passing by I sometimes ask myself: What must
they feel, the ones who decided to be perfect and keep their marriages
afloat against all odds no matter how their husbands turned out
(party animal womanizer gambler troublemaker
loud-mouthed violent head banger lunatic weirdo slightly abnormal
neurotic obsessive clearly unbearable
dumbbell deadly boring brute insensitive grubby
egomaniacal ambitious disloyal politicker crook traitor liar
rapist of daughters torturer of sons emperor of the house
tyrant everywhere) but they put up with it
and God only knows what they suffered.
When I see them passing by so dignified and aged
their sons and daughters gone from the house leaving them alone
with a man they once loved (perhaps he’s calmed down
doesn’t drink hardly talks spends his time with TV
walks in slippers yawns falls asleep snores wakes up early
is ailing half-blind harmless almost childish) I ask myself
Do they dare imagine themselves widows dreaming some night they
are free
and coming at last without guilt back to life?
Cuando Las Veo Pasar
Cuando las veo pasar alguna vez me digo: qué sentirán
ellas, las que decidieron ser perfectas conservar a toda costa
sus matrimonios no importa cómo les haya resultado el marido
(parrandero mujeriego jugador pendenciero
gritón violento penqueador lunático raro algo anormal
neurótico temático de plano insoportable
dundeco mortalmente aburrido bruto insensible desaseado
ególatra ambicioso desleal politiquero ladrón traidor mentiroso
violador de las hijas verdugo de los hijos emperador de la casa
tirano en todas partes) pero ellas se aguantaron
y sólo Dios que está allá arriba sabe lo que sufrieron.
Cuando las veo pasar tan dignas y envejecidas
los hijos las hijas ya se han ido en la casa sólo ellas han quedado
con ese hombre que alguna vez quisieron (tal vez ya se calmó
no bebe apenas habla se mantiene sentado frente al televisor
anda en chancletas bosteza se duerme ronca se levanta temprano
está achacoso cegato inofensivo casi niño) me pregunto:
¿Se atreverán a imaginarse viudas a soñar alguna noche que son libres
y que vuelven por fin sin culpas a la vida?