WELCOME TO
THIS POST!
FIRST, SOME LOVEY SCENERY FOR MY READERS.
CHILEAN COUNTRY SCENE.
Click to enlarge
Source: Iñi Piñi, CC BY SA 2.0. Flickr
This is a
FTSF (Finish the Sentence Friday) post for the corresponding Blog hop created
by my blogging friends.
The prompt
provided is:
“The best
and worst parts of blogging are…” and my
answer is in the first paragraphs of this post.
MY IDEAS ON
THE EXPERIENCE OF BLOGGING
Blogging is
a fascinating enterprise which I’m delighted to be taking part in!
The best
parts of Blogging are, to my mind – (1) the freedom which allows us to throw
most of “the rules” out the window; (2) the fact that the standard of quality
is defined by the blogger and the readers, not the moderators; (3) the
flexibility in the length of a post which can be short, middling or long; (4) the
speed with which it is possible to write, review, post and answer feedback; (5)
the lack of formality in the writing style, which is usually very fluid: (6) Blogger
communities are usually very lively, friendly and dynamic.
I think
these are the most important “best parts”
The worst
parts are, in my opinion – (1) the never ending need to learn about technical
aspects, such as uploading photos, monetizing, making the posts visible to
readers, constantly trying to increase views, and so on; (2) managing time
constraints when combining blogging with other work activities; (3) the time
and effort spent in researching for a blog on topics such as mine are.
And that’s
about it!
The rest of
this post is a good example of what I mean by “research”.
A BEAUTIFUL
POEM BY OSCAR CASTRO, THE SECOND IN THIS SERIES OF CHILEAN POETRY
Oscar
Castro was born in Rancagua in 1910. He grew to be a self educated person, a writer
and a teacher.
He died in
1947 due to chronic ill health.
For a short
introduction to his life and some details of his writings, I recommend my
previous post on this link: Oscar Castro, a poet and a poem from Chile
For this
present post, I chose the poem called Romance del Hombre Nocturno.
Here you
will find: my very free translation of this lovely poem, the original Spanish
version, and finally a video which interprets this same poem set to music and
read by some famous Chilean actors, the Duvauchelle brothers.
MY FREE
TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH
THE NOCTURNE MAN
My mare was
slowly climbing
With firm bronze
colored steps.
A night for
crucifixes
lay over
the hills.
The naked
water was involved
In limpid
conversations
With the
crickets and the stones
And some fading
songs.
“Night is a
bad thing my friend,
And there
are thieves up the hills”
¡Great old
man! He would say this
Yonder in
the barn field,
And there
was concern reflected
In his
quicksilver eyes.
But the
shadows felt good
Full of
glitters and scents
¿Fear? My
mare was sure
And I had a
revolver in my belt
And in my
breast, the solid
Heart of a
man.
But still,
but still,
My hand
trembled.
Four riders
were approaching,
Slowly descending
from the hillside.
I could see
them outlined, black
Against the
constellations above.
My mount
raised her ears
Into two
sharp points
And the ray
of a bright star
Shimmered on
my revolver.
¡Who goes
there!
I saw them
stop,
And my
voice multiplied
Echoing on
the mountain peaks
Like a coil
of springs.
At that
moment I was crossing
A narrow
edged pass:
On my
right, the abyss,
Dark like a
slice of night;
In front of
me, the riders;
On my left –
a wall- the hillside.
I continued
forwards in the shadows,
Towards the
immovable outlines.
Once
through the narrow pass,
I stumbled
over their voices.
- Where is
the friend heading?
-North to
the next town
My elderly
mother awaits me
And so do
my younger brothers.
I left them
on a day in March;
Five years
have gone by since then.
My voice was
strong and sure;
His was
opaque and coppery
I saw their
eyes glimmer
With the light
of emotions.
-I will
ride with our friend
Until he
has crossed the hills.
Five horsemen
rode on
Towards the
constellations
Five riders
descended the slopes
With firm
bronze colored strides.
Four of
them halted suddenly
The fifth
continued northwards,
After clasping
the outstretched hands
Of those
four men.
Later on,
the sky became lighter
With a
yellow dawn.
Murmuring
streams.
Early
rising birds.
Close by,
the maiten and the boldo;
In the
distance, Rancagua and its towers;
Amongst the
houses, my house,
With plum
trees and grapevines
and my
mother with her eyes
Like the
oceans and the horizon!
To the
rear, a tremendous memory
Of an
outlaw who was a great man.
THE
ORIGINAL SPANISH VERSION BY OSCAR CASTRO
ROMANCE DEL HOMBRE NOCTURNO – OSCAR CASTRO
Mi yegua subía lenta
Con firmes pasos de bronce.
La noche de crucifijos
fulgía sobre los montes
Andaba el agua desnuda
en claras conversaciones
Con los grillos y las piedras
y las huidas canciones
-”Es mala la noche amigo,
Y en el monte andan ladrones”
¡Buen viejo!, me lo decía
Allá en el campo de trojes
Y un sobresalto rondaba
Por sus pupilas de azogue.
Pero era buena la sombra
Madura de oros y olores
¿Miedo?, mi yegua era firme
Y yo llevaba un revolver en el cinto
Y en el pecho, un ancho
Corazón de hombre.
Sin embargo, sin embargo,
Mi mano sobresaltose.
Cuatro jinetes venían,
pausados bajando el monte.
Los vi recortarse, negros
Contra las constelaciones.
Mi bestia irguió las orejas
En agudos aguijones
Y la estría de un lucero
Rieló sobre mi revolver.
¡Quién va!
Los vi detenerse,
Y mi voz multiplicose
Rebotando en los picachos
Como en cojín de resortes.
Cruzaba en ese momento
Un paso de angostos bordes:
A la derecha, el abismos,
Tinta o residuo de noche;
Adelante, los jinetes;
A la izquierda – muro- el monte.
Seguí avanzando en la
sombra,
Hacia las sombras inmóviles.
Traspuesto el paso difícil,
Me tropecé con sus voces:
-
¿A dónde marcha el amigo?
-
Al pueblo de más al norte
Me esperan mi vieja madre
Y mis hermanos menores.
Los dejé un día de marzo;
Cinco años van desde entonces.
Ancha mi vos y serena;
La suya opaca y de cobre
Miré brillar las pupilas
En un fulgor de emociones.
-
Acompañaré al amigo
Hasta que trasponga el monte.
Cinco jinetes tomaron
Rumbo a las constelaciones
Bajaron cinco jinetes
Con firmes pasos de bronce.
Cuatro pararon de pronto
Y el otro siguió hacia el norte,
Después de estrechar las manos
Tendidas de los cuatro hombres.
Clareó más tarde en el cielo.
Amanecer de limones.
Palabras de agua liviana.
Pájaros madrugadores.
Cerca, maitenes y boldos;
Lejos, Rancagua y sus torres;
Y entre sus casas, mi casa,
Con ciruelos y parrones
¡y mi madre con sus ojos
De mares y horizontes!
Detrás el recuerdo grande
De un bandido que era un hombre.
FINALLY,
THE VIDEO SHOWING CHILEAN SCENERY.
AND TWO MORE PHOTOS FROM CHILE
Click to enlarge
Source: pato novoa, CC BY 2.0. Flickr
Click to enlarge
Source; Pablo T, CC BY 2.0. Flickr
I hope you
have enjoyed this post, it was really fun to write!
I did a lot of research for this!
See you on
the next post!
© 2013 jveronr (Joan Robertson)
I will be very happy to receive your comments! Just
click the word “comments” lower down.
