I dreamed that I went to the city of Gold,
To Heaven, resplendent and fair,
And after I entered that beautiful fold,
By one in authority, then I was told
That not a Vermonter was there.
"Impossible, sir, for from my own town
Many sought this delectable place,
And each must be here, with a harp or a crown,
And a conqueror's palm, and a clean linen gown,
Received through unmerited grace."
The angel replied:"All Vermonters come here
When first they depart from the earth,
But after a day, or a month, or a year,
The restless, and lonesome, and homesick appear.
And sigh for the land of their birth.<
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"They tell of ravines, wild, secluded and deep
And of flower-decked landscapes serene,
Of towering mountains, imposing and steep,
Adown which the torrents exultingly leap,
Through forests perennially green.
They tell of the many and beautiful hills,
Their forests majestic appear,
They tell of its rivers, its lakes, streams and rills,
Where nature, the purest of water distills,
And they soon get dissatisfied here.
"We give them the best the kingdom provides
They have everything here that they want
But not a Vermonter in Heaven abides;
A very brief period here, he resides,
Then hikes his way back to Vermont."
Alejandra, Alejandra
only a name,
I am behind it.
Alejandra Pizarnik
NO, THE TRUTH
No, the truth is not the music
I am in a sad waiting for a word
naming what I search for,
but what do I search for?
Not the name of a deity
not the name of names
but the precise and precious name
of my hidden desires.
(something punishes me coming from all of my lives.)
- We gave you everthing so that you would understand and you preferred to wait, as if everything announced the poem
(the one you will never write because it is an unattainable garden
- I only came to see the garden
In the central point of the wilderness
God, the spider.
Alejandra Pizarnik
VIOLIN
The violin
has its bow
in my soul
its strings
in my heart
The violin
talks inside me
and sings
what my voice
can not sing.
Primo Castrillo - Greenwich, Ct.
ICE,
oh future field of daisies!
Marcel Hennart, Bruxelles, Belguim
I STILL SEARCH
I still search for you
in a time that the past erased.
You are the subtle galaxial vagabond
asking for somebody
who if having existed
is the last passenger
in the first trip of the morning.
Alberto Baeza Flores, Madrid, Spain
SELF PORTRAIT
This sadness of mine
to dream its thorns!
Pablo Le Riverend, Newark, N.J.