Silvia Brandon Pérez: Two Poems
Ms. Brandon regrets she's unable to please today | conversations in vain

Ms. Brandon regrets she's unable to please today

(song after Cole Porter)

In her coat and her dress
she's unable to please
today, Ms. Brandon is very tired
and her back is a delicate quagmire
of folded dreams, Ms. Brandon regrets
she's unable to please today

Ms. Brandon regrets she's unable to cook
today, in her gloves and her apron,
unable to cook today, despite early
shopping hours and a medley of tunes
that are playing about, Ms. Brandon
regrets she's unable
to cook today

Ms. Brandon regrets she's unable to write
today, neither keyboard nor pen
nor recording device will play,
despite words from many friends,
despite thoughts in a jumble
creating mayhem, Ms. Brandon regrets
she's unable to write today

Ms. Brandon regrets she's unable to laugh
today, despite jokes, anecdotes, she's unable
to laugh today, early morning brought the news
that four children died of having no food,
Ms. Brandon regrets she's unable to laugh
today

conversations in vain

(translated from the Spanish by the poet)

In the end it will matter little that I am read
or ignored, that you like the disposition
of black nonsense marks on white
paper; life continues, the dough rises
with yeast and becomes bread,
seasons pass despite the fights,
arrogance and preoccupations
of the small ants who inhabit
the planet (with our prizes for peace
and literature, our juries and judges
deciding whether something
is worthwhile or competent). In the end
a galaxy dies, becomes a black hole,
death dances a guaguancó with Proust,
and in a corner of the meeting room
Fermat talks astrology with Confucius.
All's been written and all is new
in the end.

conversaciones en balde

Al final importará muy poco que me lean
o me ignoren, que les guste la disposición
de garabatos negros sobre lo blanco
del papel; la vida sigue, la masa crece
con la levadura y se convierte en pan,
las estaciones se suceden a pesar de las peleas,
de las arrogancias y preocupaciones
de las hormiguitas que poblamos el planeta
tierra, con nuestros premios de la paz
y de literatura, nuestros jurados
y los jueces que deciden si algo vale
o es competente; al final una galaxia
muere, se convierte en agujero negro,
la muerte baila un guaguancó con Proust,
y en la esquinita de la sala de reuniones
Fermat discute astrología con Confucio,
y todo ya se ha escrito y todo es nuevo
al final.

Poet's Biography:

Silvia A. Brandon Pérez is buried in three feet of snow in Pennsylvania and attempting to write poetry in Spanish and English. She awaits the coming of springtime, tulips, and tango in the supermarket. She is variously published and edits the Spanish page of the multilingual poetry magazine, Niederngasse, which can be found at http://www.niederngasse.com.