Something I wrote some time back. It still haunts me. Un idioma es todo un mundo; y un mundo, todo un idioma.
A language is a whole world; and a world, a whole language.
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The morning Mass was over,
And the last rosary lady done;
Father looked at his watch quickly,
And smiled, only 8:41.
The curate enjoyed the quiet,
Soft-shooing the carpeted floor,
Jingling keys and musing,
Aiming for the furthest back door.
I’m free for a coffee and donut,
Until the business manager at ten,
(Something about youth expenses gone over,
And the pastor’s concerned yet again);
Then maybe time for a run,
Or even a trip to the gym.
At the door in the shadows, a heaving,
As light slowly breathed its way in.
Maybe it’s a case for the Charities,
a man who claims two kids and a wife,
or maybe a thirty-something,
Suddenly worried at the meaning of life.
Cheerfully as the hour could muster:
Good morning, young man, how are you?
Paradito solo en la puerta
Encajado por el umbral,
Se presentó un joven enrojecido,
Camiseta agujerada, expuesto el costillar.
Rasgos de alambre dentado
Marcaban las manos y morral,
Apretando cachucha de juego,
De los Yánkis, (si puedes tú imaginar)
El joven escuchó sólo sonidos:
Good morning, young man, how are you?
Ave María Purísima,
Said the youth behind the last pew.
El cura encogió hombros macizos,
Gesto tal vez de no saber replicar;
After a moment of silence,
In the best Spanish he could command,
The curate spoke from a distance,
To the joven with a cap in his hand:
Hola muchacho, ¿Qúe tal?
El joven vio las llaves del cura,
Con ansias ya de cerrar,
Y recordando lo de Cristo y Pedro,
Decidió con más apuro hablar:
Bendiga me, Padre, le pido,
Al verle mi lengua quiere soltar.
He viajado aquí desde mi pueblo,
Donde muerte y vida son cuates
Que por Dios se suelen mezclar,
Bailamos la danza del duelo
Al son de dos tiros o más,
De tal modo marcamos el turno,
De las caras que ya no están;
País donde mártires sonríen,
A saber que no se pueden confesar,
Donde caudillos quizá se persignen
Antes de ordenar fusilar.
Fairly familiar the speaking,
The sounds that came to his ear;
Words much faster than in Texas,
When the teacher’s meaning was clear.
Prometí a la Virgen Morena,
Si guiara como estrella mi afán,
Que le rezara tres Aves Marías,
Antes de buscarme un pan,
En el primer templo encontrado abierto,
Sea con riesgo que otros
Espiándome me verán.
The Father caught next to nothing,
Of the phrases that came through the fear.
He thought to call the Gardener,
By blood if not birth related,
To the fellow standing right here.
He muttered a quick disculpe thinking:
Lord, get me out of this bind.
Maybe a swift pointing toward the office,
And the day could go on as designed.
But the measure you measure,
Was the phrase that came to his mind.
¿Se impacienta un poco, Padre?
Lo siento, de veras que sí,
Que sólo le llegan
Palabras que caen al azar.
Sus oídos me parecen islotes,
Cuando el río se acerca a saludar
Con gotas más bien dirigidas
Al llamado que les hace el Mar.
Still, Social Services has an office,
Not taxing because really not far,…
The government would still let them feed him,
(Though the bishop said no travel by car.)
Then the stranger started to speak faster,
Never lifting his eyes from the floor;
This shower of words kept coming
Like a river that poured through the door.
Permítame Padre, le pido,
Hincarme aquí a rezar,
Pronto salgo para fuera,
No le quiero más molestar.
Pero, encontrar una iglesia sin llave,
Me parece una gracia real
Y el respiro de mi alma,
Algo que la Virgen esperando dar luz al Cristo
Hoy me desea regalar.
Maybe the mention of Christ and the Virgin,
And something about grace and today,
Announced a different hunger
--not food or referrals--
For this joven muchacho
Stopping a cleric on his way.
So the priest asked
¿Como te llamas, joven?
(Sputtering for something to say),
¿En qué te puedo ayudar?
Y el joven respirando de veras,
Hasta sus ojos alcanzó levantar,
Le dijo al cura, Me llamo José Ángel,
A sus órdenes me quiero prestar.
The name José Angel
In a single breath came through,
With a look of longing, --
The young man just gazed at the pew.
Dirigió sus ojos a la banca,
Silenciosa palabra universal,
Y causó que el cura se fijara,
En los ojos a punto de llorar.
He only wanted a few minutes
To kneel in the pew and to pray,
Before the door was locked
And el Santísimo, hidden for the rest of the day,
So the priest breathed in and said pase,
And putting his keys clean away,
Announced gently: José Ángel, God bless you,
I’ll close up later in the day.
Sin llave dejó la puerta,
Y lentamente el cura parpadeó,
Ladeando la cabeza en seña,
Un pase quieto emitió:
Entendió José Ángel Dios te ayude,
Más tarde pasaré a cerrar.
Que en lenguaje de los Ángeles,
sin pecado concebida,
se podría interpretar.
Sort of a genuine wonder,
What happened really that day,
Que Ave María Purísima,
Se logró ese día pronunciar.
And that conceived without sin,
Got stammered back
In some way.
+df
