Category Archives: Post War

Álvaro Cunqueiro- The Enchanted Island

There is an enchanted island Away in the deeps of the sea With oxen the colour of weather And shepherd girls made of glass. The isle has a river of birds That open their mouths in song- Sad island birds … Continue reading

Posted in Álvaro Cunqueiro, Mondoñedo, Post War | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Celso Emilio Ferreiro- Longa Noite de Pedra

Long Night of Stone In my path there is a stone I have a stone in the middle of the path I have a stone In the middle of the path I have a stone. (Carlos Drummond de Andrade) The … Continue reading

Posted in Book Reviews, Post War | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Ramón Otero Pedrayo- Bocarribeira

Dead men’s deaf clogs                                                   Os zocos zordos dos mortos Walk over Friars’ Bridge:                                             trepan na Ponte dos Frades: They are not river froth,                                             non son escumas do río. On the twisted pathways-                                         nos amieiros retortos The groans of sleep and … Continue reading

Posted in Post War | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

There you have him- Man

There are wounded knees that touch the ground Joined hands that unite the soul in one moment Lips that gurgle prayers like mountain springs In the dark of the night, steaming chalices of blood. Someone’s soft hand presses against the … Continue reading

Posted in Mondoñedo, Post War | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Xosé Ma Díaz Castro- Worm and Star

This eternal yearning for an absolute Purity; this yearning for a justice That will burn us; this yearning for beauty… Under the stone wings of inertia With the wages of sin on each corner And the grass set for burning.  … Continue reading

Posted in Mondoñedo, Post War | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Embers

Poet or not, I will sing of things Waiting on the threshold of my self. With torches of words I’ll light All I inherit, the world they gave me. They are there, like embers against the night, The old things, … Continue reading

Posted in Post War | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Haloes- Xosé María Díaz Castro

If it’s true a poem is just a halo of light That blind eyes dress things up in- Things dreamt or loved in the darkness- Things that once were then went But still are and now never go, Shadows that, … Continue reading

Posted in Post War | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments