Waiting
for the Train to Granada #2-2
We are stuck between the border of late afternoon
and night,
Laughter and eyes rail at the blind moon.
Madrid is a bohemian dream
The locomotive is a sick animal
Grazing noise and smoke
The darkness takes ten cars into silence
Windows mirror a laugh from Goya
Sitting in the hours of uncertainty.
Dialogue of dead hours
clouds gallop toward the mountains.
Locomotive hooked to a verse from Lope de Vega
Pulling dead horses
Like barricades of the civil war.
We are passengers coupled to fog.
Granada is between
A train’s arrival and an afternoon sleepy with
waiting.
This
poem is part of my new book: The Two Rivers of Granada/Descend from the
Snow/To the Wheat . 2015. By Juan
Garrido Salgado
(Waiting
for the Train to Granada )
Estamos
estancados entre la frontera del atardecer y la noche,
Risas y rieles
ojos de la luna ciega.
Madrid ya es
bohemia o sueño
La locomotora es
un animal enfermo
Pastando ruidos
y humo
La oscuridad
tira diez carros al silencio
Ventanas espejos
de una risa de Goya
Sentados en las
horas de la incertidumbre.
Diálogo de horas
muertas
entre nubes
galopando hacia los montes.
Locomotora
enganchada a un verso de Lope de Vega
Tirando caballos
muertos
Como barricadas
de la guerra civil.
Somos pasajeros
enganchados en la niebla.
Granada esta
entre
un tren en la
espera y un atardecer dormido.
lovely... that moment of in between, when everything comes flooding back
ReplyDeleteYes, I am with you in Granada!
ReplyDeletebeautiful
ReplyDeleteQue bien. Pero no conosco el Sr Salgado.
ReplyDeleteSr Schackne it is a pleasure to meet you my name is Juan Garrido-Salgado.
DeletePues si, muy encantado. Perdoname quien es el Sr Lafferte?
Deletespent some time there at the end of last year ... I love that town ... my first poems on this blog were written there!
ReplyDeletethanks!!!
Deletemediodia, Albayzín – last day of '15
ReplyDeletea rooster in the city
tells dawn to the walls
all morning
pigeon flocks stir something in him
it is a puzzle of winding ways
churches far below and above
voices behind me of solo pedestrians
a hand to head as if tooth aches
they have other worlds in mind
overtake me
as I write this down
climb into cars, drive off
some sit the stairs
action is anxious
there are rug beaters
clouded in dust
there are dogs of great patience
sometimes it's just conversation
slow two stroke ascent
'fandango de la mari' on the cliff above
ruins abound in hashish whiff
spat seeds are cobbles in miniature
first fireworks before noon
could be a terror attack
such is the age
in which we are passing
bells of twelve
are a distance to chime
they're for the stillness
we're well beyond here
the pigeons have another world
at least the rooster still commands
imagination's harem
2
Alhambra
light trickles where let
and shade flows
cloud comes where the sun stands
and later in lamplight
everywhere the eye delights
love as through gates gathered
here to be in the garden
ripple of shadow
from a still pool cast
I have coaxed a cloud here
dark moment in the day – that's love too
the red house
has a climate for stars
for stars and for sauntering moonlight
pomegranate overhead and oranges
high vines
art is of no image here
the sierra's end is whittled to this
tears of the desert have conquered so far
we sit on cold stone
a pigeon visits
in the garden
the stairs are water running
it is inscribed on ceilings, walls
each tendril touch a next embrace
everywhere the eye delights
in steam and through lattice
love's countenance
reaching green for a next touch of heaven
a mind here for infinity
that is where love grows
one voice lies under another
love is what's where the sun casts
how the soil says
shade, light etched
each in other
summer behind in the hills
beyond season
art is of no image here
the tiles
carved timber, plaster
nothing but light and lack
each surface is a map
a handmade circuit
each arabesque a journey lost
follow and the eye is mazed
each thought is a garden
and stairs to the night
there need be no way out
all surrender in this place
a bell tolls
in the muezzin's call
so many tears
the ages to come
a clash of swords
surrender here
a language is to air
never gone
these walls were sung into life
among leaves
when leaves have fallen
steady as clouds passing
the sound of water unremarked
night falls to it
black roses for heaven
the nightingale among all fountains
through the gate of pomegranates
in the place of the cistern
under the tower of wine
my love has come with me
and the snow has blossomed beyond
high on the peaks of Sierra Nevada
here most secret of hearts
orange and myrtle, a tangle
of cloud
on earth there is a pool reflecting
azure, rose and sun for yellow
in the court of the lions
gazelles come careless
remember!
damask
time here discomposed
light trickles where let
shade flows
ripples of shadows
cast from a still pool
the elements in heaven's hand
look up
can you pick apart this blue?
here in the garden
I am waiting
we are waiting
we all of us surrender