Silvio II

See first Silvio post for background

Of absence and of you



Now the only thing left is for me to regain the
lover's breath
To avoid maps, to keep to myself
to avoid certain streets,
to forget that a certain book was once mine
or to write a song

And tell you that everything's the same
the city, the friends, the sea
waiting, because of you,
waiting, because of you

I keep going to Tete's, week after week
you remember her place
Today she spoke of rifles dispatching dead men
I know she loves me
perhaps that's why
I sense you in her living room
even though you're not here now.
And you can feel it in our conversation
or maybe it's just that I have the impression
of absence and of you,
of absence and of you

I hope there's no disaster in the reasonable crime
of remembering
or in the inevitable flaw
of nostalgia for dumb little things
Like when I stepped on your feet
in the crowd
and we laughed and laughed and laughed,
late nights without going to sleep.
Yes, it's different without you.
Very different without you.

Ideas are bullets these days and I can't
wear flowers for you.
Today, I'd like to be older and wise
and to tell you
what I couldn't tell you here,
to speak as a tree,
shading you.
Like a book salvaged from the sea,
like a dead man that learns to kiss,
for you,
for you

Silvio

Silvio is a great lyricist, generally unknown in the US. Translations can't approximate his power, but they can try, in this and posts to come. He weaves politics, love, the mundane and the ideal - dissolving, rising above, sublimating any one thought, idea or ideology.

Today, my duty was



Here is a translation, open to constructive suggestions:

Today my duty was
to sing for my country
to raise the flag
to join the fray
today was a moment
rather optimistic
a rebirth
a conquering sun
but you've been missing for so many days
that I want to and can't rejoice
I think of your hair
crashing into my pillow
and I'm such that I can't fight another battle

Today, though I should
have sung with the chorus
I hide from the day
I whisper this alone
What am I doing so far away, justifying
this cruel trick of the senses?

Your delicate lips,
kissing mine,
conquer, own, don't relent
your body and my body
singing struggles
possessed sounds, feverish trembles

Today my duty was
to sing to the fatherland
to raise the flag
to join the fray
and I believe that, perhaps,
I've finally achieved it
dreaming your embrace
rushing to your side


He prefaces the song by saying, "I sung this in a Chilean prison, to a group of political prisoners."

Erna

Erna gardened the way a mother may raise a child - at times meticulous, at times benignly distant, intuitively, dutifully, with gratitude. Her shed was full of possibly useful tools and salvage, her kitchen warm, her home blissfully cluttered, in the sense of someone who has done without, and who appreciates small things. Unwavering, undemanding. She smiles, knowingly.

Walter

Walter, even if he had a nicer home, would prefer to sleep in a shed if that is all his brother had. He tended his mother's land after his father died. He worked for years in a steel mill, raising his family. He then farmed until his body grew too old. He faced illness and mortality with quiet determination. Though he disfavored idleness, he appreciated companied recreation. Such solidarity and humble strength may not produce material abundance. I don't think Walter cared.

Tally

-Days and nights = 36/35
-Nights camping/ in paid lodging/ at friends’ houses = 17/9/9
-Miles ridden = 1807
-Avg miles per day, Days #1-26 = 42
-Avg miles per day, Days #27-36 = 70
-Cumulative distances and averages = see itinerary
-Miles on dirt roads = abt 15, mostly pure misery
-Close calls = between 1 and 7
-People who think I'm braindead or suicidal = >837 (in Austin-area alone)
-Flats = 9 (Colorado = 6, Texas = 3, Utah, Kansas, Missouri and Arkansas = 0)
-Tube Failures = 5 or 6
-Loose spokes = 2
-Wheel truings = 2
-Must-visit eating establishments = >3 (Betty's Cafe in Vernal, UT; Homey Hearth in Harrison, AR; Ozark Cafe in Jasper, AR)
-Honorable mention eating establishments = >2 (Mahogany Ridge in Steamboat Springs, CO; Star Cafe in Henderson, TX)

more to come

Inns

Bed and Breakfast establishments are often comparable to or cheaper than motels or hotels. For this cost saving, you sacrifice generic rooms, bland food, hunger and disservice. That is to say, at most inns, your hosts treat you like family, you get desserts, tea and snacks, an abundant homemade breakfast, better cable, interaction with other guests, sometimes a small library, more comfortable and home-like rooms, beds and bathrooms, unique and sometimes historic lodging. Instead of sterile and generic commerce, this is hospitality. And more reasonably priced. Who knew?

Janie

Janie cast a spell on me. The entire company was fun and sharp and comfortable and familiar, I don't mean to slight anyone. Janie had the type of charisma and energy that could make anything fun. I bet she could make it seem exciting and enjoyable to drink castor oil, while digging a ditch, in a corset, during a blizzard, surrounded by badgers. She would just smile and say, "Hey everyone, let's drink castor oil, while digging a ditch, in a corset, during a blizzard, surrounded by badgers," and everyone else would say, "Yea, alright, I can't think of anything that sounds better right now."

Her four children are raised and independent, and she is finishing her degree, planning to work as a play therapist. I'm not sure I knew much about play therapy. She described it as helping children work through issues or trauma through play. If the field hadn't existed, she might have invented it.

As we spent the evening together, politics came up. It was quickly clear that we distinctly disagreed on some often divisive matters. I feared this difference might douse the afternoon's magic. She stated her opinions, and I didn't really say anything either way. She got up to do something, obviously caught up in thought. She came back later, a question burning in her pocket, and we had a respectful and interested discussion. Earnest thought, common ground, honored differences, magic restored.

Her charisma is perhaps a combination of such youthful exuberance and adult depth and thoughtfulness. As well a mixture of unself-consciousness and an enthusiasm for the task or moment at hand. Janie laughs at herself easily and experiments without fear of failure. She puts others at ease, teases playfully and is curious and engaged.