I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
......
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
......
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
......
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as
if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
......
That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision
I may burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels!
That of the clear-struck keys of the heart not one may fail
to sound because of a loose, doubtful or broken string!
That my streaming countenance may make me more resplendent
That my humble weeping change into blossoms.
Oh, how will you then, nights of suffering, be remembered
with love. Why did I not kneel more fervently, disconsolate
sisters, more bendingly kneel to receive you, more loosely
surrender myself to your loosened hair? We, squanderers of
......
CATULLUS TRANSLATIONS
Catullus CI aka Carmina 101: “His Brother’s Burial”
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Through many lands and over many seas
I have journeyed, brother, to these wretched rites,
to this final acclamation of the dead ...
and to speak — however ineffectually — to your voiceless ashes
......
My cute little brother,
Full of pristine purity,
Glows amidst people other,
Full of divine sanctity.
Stuffed with pure love,
Filled with intimate innocence,
Like an angel from above,
He spreads his milky essence.
......
A man is like a tree, tall and strong,
With branches reaching up to the sky.
His roots run deep, he's been here so long,
And he stands firm when the winds pass by.
His trunk is solid, his bark so rough,
But he's gentle too, like a soft breeze.
He may seem tough, but he's filled with love,
And his heart beats with the greatest ease.
......
Cowardly brother, I think I've found the answer
But while you've been holding the question,
You think you're an actor
Does your heart still yearn?
To know what went wrong
Fucked up kids
My heart's just beating along
I've looked through the dirty glass,
......
The definitive nice guy and so friendly;
Slow to burn, he coasts life easily.
A true gentleman of the first order;
And free as bluebirds on the Spanish border!
He's my brother; I have no other;
First sunbeam of my mother.
A natural born comedian to be exact,
Though not many are aware of that fact.
......