poems about ecuador
Five Poems by Edwin Madrid
Edwin Madrid
The Child of Laurel
in a town
where the sun entered the houses
jumping over walls
and waking up its inhabitants
tickling them on their feet
a boy was born with the head of an armoire
this fact
moved the community
and the child became a scandal
and it was necessary to exhibit him
in the largest plaza of the town
to avoid crowding of cars and mules which arrived
from everywhere in the country
transporting priests scientists
old men and military men
only to see him sleep
with one armoire door closed
and the other one open
and when he cried
to listen to the insistent
jolting of its drawers
until they placed inside of it
a bottle of milk
the child grew
and it became more and more difficult for him
to carry his head on his shoulders
he could not get on the buses
nor could he play goalkeeper
for the town team
but he discovered that he did not need
to go to school
or university
because by only placing the books
of whatever topic on his head
he obtained the knowledge
of an erudite in the subject
which turned him into the heaviest
cranium of humanity
owning in his memory
around one hundred thousand titles
which covered black magic to
design and construction of space cities
likewise
a great difficulty had been created
his head developed to such a degree
that from armoire he went on to be
a sort of vault with cemetery doors
which prevented his leaving
the study room
for the rest of his life.
Not Even Science is a Sacred Cow
intrigued by the Great Wall of China
I dedicated a great part of my life
to its research
at first
it seemed to me impossible
that it could exist
since with its material
they could have built a city
for ten thousand Chinese
thus motivated by my researcher’s
ruminations
I studied civil engineering
I obtained a masters in impossible buildings
I gave courses
on designs of bridges
conferences about
Greco-Roman architecture
but the Chinese wall
continued to wake me at midnight
until I decided
to undertake an expedition to Tíbet
and touch the colossal wall with my hands
upon my return
Germany
wanted to hire me
to reconstruct the Berlin wall
mafia men from everywhere
stood in long lines at my office
in hopes of my signature
for the building of their bunkers
but today when I have deciphered
the mysteries of the great wall
I wake up
intrigued by the sand castles
that my grandson
builds on the beach.
Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf
One day Little Red Riding Hood
went deep into the forest
and while she was searching
the Big Bad Wolf appeared
and in Little Red Riding Hood’s voice
he asked her:
—What are you carrying in your basket?
and Little Red Riding Hood
answered in the Wolf’s voice:
A rifle with three shots
—Why does the rifle have a sight?
asked the Wolf
—The better to see you with
answered Little Red Riding Hood
—Why do you rest it on your breast?
—The better to shoot with
—And who are you going to shoot?
—You. Bang/Bang
Colorful red
a story that must be read
and this is just said.
Little Tail
I will be as silent these days
as when my first pet died
I will not smoke nor go out on my walks
through the ushimana forest
nor do I want Felix to come
to talk about the government
and the latest events
I need to be alone
to pause and meditate
like the monks of the Himalayas
who spent their life
wanting to eviscerate the mysteries of aquiev
and though I am not skilled at making poems
I will think of one that will make you immortal
I will use bowwow! your favorite word
I will put music to it and children’s songs
a bone of sugar at the end of each stanza
and on the third day
I will arrive at your tomb where you now sleep
and I will read it
as I used to read breton
while you rolled around on my bed
but if in that moment you happen to think
the same as the King of the Jews
bowwow!—I will tell you—are you from this life or the other?
surely you will answer wagging your tail
inciting me to chase you
you will bite the laces of my sneakers
then
you will begin to run around
until we begin to disappear
in the middle of a field of sunflowers.
To Know There is a Tomorrow
This business of waking up
and knowing that there is a tomorrow
and tomorrow upon awakening
to know that there is a tomorrow and tomorrow a tomorrow and
but you know that if you wake up
on Monday
the next day will be Tuesday
and Monday is Monday
and Tuesday is Tuesday
and you know that on Monday one works
and on Tuesday one works
and Wednesdays
and Thursdays
and Fridays
but that does not mean
that all days are the same
because Monday is Monday
and Tuesday Tuesday
although the seven days
could be Sunday
and Monday Monday
but you know
that what matters is to know that there is a tomorrow.
Translated by Ted Maier and Alicia Cabiedes-Fink
Photo: Ecuadorian poet Edwin Madrid, by Eduardo Guerra Hernández.
