Poem: Campestral Winter
An original poem, first written in Spanish, then rendered into English by the author (i.e. moi)
It’s winter in the panhandle of Idaho. The first several weeks of December, illness ran through our family and several others we know. Eyes watered, noses ran, knees buckled. The weather was just cold enough to make an old joint or two ache, and snow wouldn’t come. The sky was dreary.
During Christmas there was an explosion of pinkeye (from which we were thankfully spared), and more flu.
Finally it snowed.
In commemoration of the beauty of winter, regardless of the challenge to our perception of beauty that illness presents, I offer you the following short poem(s).
I wrote the original in Spanish, in lines of four-ish feet, with a final couplet of longer lines; the rhyme scheme in Spanish is ABBAACC DD. Then I made an English version featuring lines of three or four feet and a longer final couplet, with a rhyme scheme of AABBAAB CC.
I kept the word campestral in the English title, because it’s in the dictionary (!!) and because I hope it will impart a medieval/timeless feel to a modern and personal setting. Perhaps Rural Winter would have been a better title. The subtitle is From Ushuaia to Alaska because I have fond memories of cold and winter in several parts of the Americas, and wanted to make a poem more about the universality than the individuality of this human experience.
Well, these poems are short little things, and not worthy of much more verbosity, so ad rem. I posted the Spanish first, since it was composed first.
Invierno Campestral De Alaska a Ushuaia La ves, pero aún no conoces La nieve que cubre la sal, Borrando vista del trigal Y sofocando las voces, Todas menos las de las toses Que buscan tés, chocolates, O en pampas, mates. Una vez que la voz es amansada, La nieve puede ser estudiada. Campestral Winter From Ushuaia to Alaska You see but do not truly know The salt-covering snows. It blurs away the fields of hay And stifles all that voices say, All but the coughing throes. The search for teas, cocoas, Or on the pampas, maté. Once the voice is soothed with balm, The snow may be studied with patient calm.
Lovely.