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Poetry

The City of the Sun

By Horacio Castillo
Translated from Spanish by Samuel Gray

Charged as fabulists and cast out of the city,
we wander back and forth, sleeping now in caves,
now in the open, feeding on herbs and roots,
and when we’re lucky enough, honeycomb.
Our women and children have come with us,
and when we gather around the evening fire
they turn, one after the other, to look at the city:
after all, we lived part of our lives there.
But reason insisted. How could they
stand for it, our calling the stones rivers? The trees stars?
How could they suffer us to name the bird magnolia?
Reason insisted. And now, from here,
we look sadly at the vast bronze gates,
at the tallest towers yet gilding in the sun;
and as the caravans come and go,
the merchants describe gold tables and cups,
altars magnificent with offerings,
and how, in every room, were stockpiled the missiles
that in the coming millennium, they say, will set the sky on fire.
Reason insisted. And now, primitive tribe,
we wander back and forth babbling our dialect,
our language of the lost city that nobody
understands. How could they
stand for it, our calling fire fish, water dove?
How could they suffer us to name the rose destiny,
those, who continue to believe that acorns are acorns?  

Translation of “La ciudad del sol.” Copyright the estate of Horacio Castillo. Translation copyright 2011 by Samuel Gray. All rights reserved.

English Spanish (Original)

Charged as fabulists and cast out of the city,
we wander back and forth, sleeping now in caves,
now in the open, feeding on herbs and roots,
and when we’re lucky enough, honeycomb.
Our women and children have come with us,
and when we gather around the evening fire
they turn, one after the other, to look at the city:
after all, we lived part of our lives there.
But reason insisted. How could they
stand for it, our calling the stones rivers? The trees stars?
How could they suffer us to name the bird magnolia?
Reason insisted. And now, from here,
we look sadly at the vast bronze gates,
at the tallest towers yet gilding in the sun;
and as the caravans come and go,
the merchants describe gold tables and cups,
altars magnificent with offerings,
and how, in every room, were stockpiled the missiles
that in the coming millennium, they say, will set the sky on fire.
Reason insisted. And now, primitive tribe,
we wander back and forth babbling our dialect,
our language of the lost city that nobody
understands. How could they
stand for it, our calling fire fish, water dove?
How could they suffer us to name the rose destiny,
those, who continue to believe that acorns are acorns?  

La ciudad del sol

Expulsados de la ciudad bajo el cargo de fabuladores,
vamos de un lado al otro, durmiendo ya en cuevas,
ya a la intemperie, y alimentándonos de hierbas y raíces
o con la miel de algún panal hallado fortuitamente.
Han venido con nostros las mujeres y los niños,
y cuando nos reunimos junto al fuego del atardecer,
sus ojos se vuelven una y otra vez hacia las murallas:
después de todo, allí pasamos parte de nuestra vida.
Pero lo exigía la razón. ¿Cómo podían soportar
que llamáramos a la piedra río, al árbol estrella?
¿Cómo podían soportar que llamáramos al pájaro magnolia?
Lo exigía la razón. Y ahora, desde aquí,
vemos con tristeza las anchas puertas de bronce,
las altísimas torres doradas por el sol;
y cuando entran o salen las caravanas
los mercadores describen las mesas y vasos de oro,
los magníficos altares cubiertos de ofrendas,
las armas que colman todos los recintos
y que en el próximo milenio, dicen, incendiarán el cielo.
Lo exigía la razón. Y ahora, como una horda,
vamos de un lado al otro balbuceando nuestra lengua,
hablando el dialecto de una ciudad perdida
que ya  nadie comprende. ¿Cómo podían soportar
que llamáramos al fuego pez, al agua paloma?
¿Cómo podían soportar que llamáramos al la rosa destino,
ellos, los que creen que las bellotas so bellotas?

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