Rubén Darío  (1867-1916)

Madre, que dar pudiste de tu vientre pequeño
tantas rubias bellezas y tropical tesoro,
tanto lago de azures, tanta rosa de oro,
tanta paloma dulce, tanto tigre zahareño.

Yo te ofrezco el acero en que forjé mi empeño,
la caja de armonía que guarda mi tesoro,
La peaña de diamantes del Ídolo que adoro
y te ofrezco mi esfuerzo, y mi nombre y mi sueño.


La Fabulosa

Nica Pintura

My idol walks. Behold her beauty
born of Nicaraguan night
summoning poetic duty:
tremors of volcanic light!
Clouds of ash and lava dropping:
I come back… I going shopping.

Sounding her primeval waters
crater lakes, her green lagoons,
fabulous—this diverse daughter’s
humid palms and storm-tossed moons;
ascending up her jungle mount:
Transfer dinero to my account !

Stone-faced idol, pre-conquista;
rice with beans or sacred maize
labyrinthine Latin vista,
cumbias and sacred lays.
Hurricanes and quaking earth:
Gringo, what your dollar worth?

She who left her quaint dysfunction
reeking of colonial woes
for the multi-culti junction,
holy in her porno-pose;
scowling like exploited nations:
How you say… congratulations!

Gushing like a flow of lava
running down her placid gaze,
ripened flesh; the scent of guava,
passion-fruit in paraphrase…
Monkeys howling, torrents pouring:
Poetry to me is boring

Rubén Darío’s wonderland:Flor de C
Flor de Caña the anesthetic.
Marx’s tropic reprimand:
Sandinismo as emetic.
Verses don’t impress this lass:
Please—the car need fill with gas.

Lost in hurricanes of thought,
pounding the roof, God pours, it rains.
What was it, really, that I sought
In her land where the poetry reigns ?
It’s love. At times I long to shoot her:
(Why you waste time on that computer?)