Poem
Armando Orozco Tovar
THE EMBERA WOMAN
Every day I cross this sidewalkand God is not there,
only the Embera woman.
As if she did not exist
everybody steps on her,
she’s invisible there in the street.
She no longer has woods,
only fish without wings
empty in her eyes,
and a son sown in the cemetery.
Columbus no longer comes in his ship
so she can look at her face in the mirror.
The rivers of white, or green, water
springing from the ground,
the red wine
falling from the leaves of trees.
The Embera woman sails on the sidewalk.
She neither says anything nor wails
“A few pennies for the love of God!”
but God is not there anyway, nor is anyone,
when hunger hounds her.
Only the poet sees her, and shouts,
“Let someone stop the assassin!”
© Translation: 2009, Nicolás Suescún
LA EMBERA
LA EMBERA
Todos los días cruzo por la aceraY Dios no está,
Sólo la embera.
Como si no existiera
Todos la pisan,
Es invisible sobre la calle.
Ya no tiene bosques,
Sólo peces sin alas,
Vacíos dentro de sus ojos
Y un hijo sembrado en el cemento.
Ya no llega Colón con sus navíos,
Para que ella mire su nada en los espejos.
Sus ríos de aguas blancas, o verdes
Naciendo en los esteros,
Los vino tintos,
Caídos desde las hojas de los árboles.
La embera navega sobre la acera.
No dice nada, ni gime:
¡Por Dios, una limosna!
Pero Dio no existe, ni nadie,
A las deshoras del hambre.
Sólo el poeta ve a la Katío y grita:
¡Qué alguien detenga al asesino!
© 2009, Armando Orozco Tovar
Publisher: Unpublished,
Publisher: Unpublished,
Poems
Poems of Armando Orozco Tovar
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THE EMBERA WOMAN
Every day I cross this sidewalkand God is not there,
only the Embera woman.
As if she did not exist
everybody steps on her,
she’s invisible there in the street.
She no longer has woods,
only fish without wings
empty in her eyes,
and a son sown in the cemetery.
Columbus no longer comes in his ship
so she can look at her face in the mirror.
The rivers of white, or green, water
springing from the ground,
the red wine
falling from the leaves of trees.
The Embera woman sails on the sidewalk.
She neither says anything nor wails
“A few pennies for the love of God!”
but God is not there anyway, nor is anyone,
when hunger hounds her.
Only the poet sees her, and shouts,
“Let someone stop the assassin!”
© 2009, Nicolás Suescún
THE EMBERA WOMAN
Every day I cross this sidewalkand God is not there,
only the Embera woman.
As if she did not exist
everybody steps on her,
she’s invisible there in the street.
She no longer has woods,
only fish without wings
empty in her eyes,
and a son sown in the cemetery.
Columbus no longer comes in his ship
so she can look at her face in the mirror.
The rivers of white, or green, water
springing from the ground,
the red wine
falling from the leaves of trees.
The Embera woman sails on the sidewalk.
She neither says anything nor wails
“A few pennies for the love of God!”
but God is not there anyway, nor is anyone,
when hunger hounds her.
Only the poet sees her, and shouts,
“Let someone stop the assassin!”
© 2009, Nicolás Suescún
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