NaPoWriMo #16

Prompt: Write a “translation” of a poem in a language you don’t actually know. Go to the Poetry International Language List, pick a language, and then follow it to a poet and a poem….and have fun


Poczułem się jakby ktoś wszedł

bezgłośnie, ale przez skrzypiące drzwi.

Nie wstałem z miejsca, nie poszedłem sprawdzić,

chociaż po twarzy przemknął mi ten powiew

a drzwi skrzypnęły zaraz, jakby gość wychodził

bez słowa, bez wyjaśnień.

Perhaps he’ll enjoy eating weeds

Ripped fresh from earth, in the secret heat of dawn

I won’t worry for consequences, he, sprawled prone,

Choking and gasping for breath without power

I drawing subtle strength, from his withdrawal

Dying slowly, dying willingly.

Actual translation of the poem:


It felt as if someone came in

silently, but through a door that creaked.

I didn’t get up, didn’t go check

although a breeze moved across my face

and the door squeaked quickly as if the guest were leaving

without a word, without explanations.

A-Z Blogger Challenge: N

Noise & Narco Blogs

Before I moved to Mexico several people expressed concern about my safety. I’d say this is fair enough given the dangers that are regularly reported in the news. Most were concerned that I’d get murdered in a drugs bust or shoot out. (This despite the fact that I do not indulge in drugs)

The Mexico I live in is more about the noise than the Narcos.

Last weekend in Mexico City, I sat at a café and it seemed like the whole city swarmed around me. I could hear hip-hop thuds from the break dancers in the square, mixed with the pan pipe irritation from the Mexican equivalent of the Salvation Army. There was an NFL event going on in the large plaza and the whistles and shouts from the coaches mingled in too. There is a constant threat of noise even in a small place like Tequis. There are fireworks at all hours, cows and turkeys in back yards, dogs roaming the streets, fighting for space. The supermarkets buzz with elevator music and special offers at ear splitting volume. The whole place is alive.

What always makes me laugh is the major party that goes on in the plaza beside our house every Tuesday night. There’s always a mix of music, from traditional mariachi to down right awful 80’s cheese. I mean who has that much to celebrate on a Tuesday night? Maybe when my Spanish is good enough I’ll go and ask someone.

When I think back to my time in Mexico it will come back to me not just with a rush of colour, heat and smell but with the oppressive noise that is everywhere. And maybe an entry in the Narco Blogs –