Wednesday, February 6, 2008

"The Miner's Son" & "Children of the Winter" (two poems)

“A Miner’s Son”
(Cerro de Pasco)

Soft dreams, from sun-beams, commencing
over a sill, through a window, down into a crib
o’er the head of an infant boy; he lays
waiting, just waiting for the day…!

With his soft dreams, and many a days of light
tinted warm breeze, he is learning:
he’s a miner’s son!

Sweet is the day, angel smooth skin,
the boy is happy; life is a delight; yet
life still is thin, shadowy,
but he’s learning fast, he’s a miner’s son!

Softly he murmurs, a blink of an eye; dove
like arms, tossed to and fro, as if
he’s ready to lift a pick and hammer,
dig for minerals: he knows no harm;
he’s just waiting, learning, he’s a miner’s son!

Sleep well, little boy, sweet babe, once your
father was just like you, he wore little shoes;
so sleep well, with your heavenly face,
you’re a miner’s son, strong and brave!

#2223 (2-6-2008)

Children of the Winter
(in Cerro de Pasco)

Sounds of Quenas
(flutes) now are mute,
winter in Cerro de Pasco
has come, night and day
along with a new year.
The birds have gone north,
down the mountains steep
through its abrupt terrain;
as little boys and girls,
merrily play, with
llamas, alpacas and
sheep—with long stretched
out necks, and soft wool
they want to kiss.
And then, again, they go
merrily on their way
to find a new game to play,
as they welcome
the new year in.

#2224 (2-6-2008)

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