Because We Come from Everything: Poetry & Migration: León Salvatierra (translation by Javier O. Huerta)

image from https://s3.amazonaws.com/feather-client-files-aviary-prod-us-east-1/2017-03-22/761c628a-4919-4214-8eeb-7e425cd51e90.png

painting by Hugo Palma-Ibarra

 Upon Returning

From To the North, by León Salvatierra
(translation by Javier O. Huerta)


When I fled Nicaragua
was alone. The young ones had departed
or had disappeared, the young ones.  Women
elders had left, children
and songs. The wind and the aurora
It was nineteen eighty eight when I fled
Nicaragua
                    
Was
Alone

Remained the park benches
(Maybe one person walked by there)
I was fifteen when I fled Nicaragua

There was no more talk
of Rigoberto. Bullets fell
on his chest like pearls. Cesar and his two brothers
were lost
Carlos remained in the mountain

Streets also disappeared
My house was abandoned
My father was no longer there
My mother
My brothers (alone)

The mango and almond trees had fled
Ants walked towards the shadow
I walked in the shadow

My neighbors—the ones in the big house—
purchased a dream
They fled to the United States
Managua—Miami: direct flight

I fled as MOJADO
spent nights
           wet
flying over rivers
over fields and roads
I went flying

passed across Guatemala, Mexico, and finally
                      entered
the United States of America

America was not the name of my beloved
America was my paralytic dream
America was not my home

Provider of people and articulations
Buses . . . Cars . . . Trailers
Brutal Force
          Men
                       White or Caucasian
                       Black African American
                       Native . . . Asian . . . Latino . . .
All colors
Beneath its face
was hiding verb and shame

America was not alone
Those were dark years
the sun set daily over my face
until one day
she could no longer hide me
           and allowed me to return
Stamped a seal on my heart and gave me flight

In nineteen ninety nine
A man will enter an Other Nicaragua

In nineteen ninety nine
                  Nicaragua
         continues to be
                             alone

At home surrounded by friends and memory
The mango and almond trees did not return
The ants remained in the shadow
my mother my brothers . . .

In nineteen ninety nine
I, too, was alone in Nicaragua

 

Al regreso
by León Salvatierra

Cuando yo me fui de Nicaragua
estaba sola. Los jóvenes se habían corrido
O habían desaparecido los jóvenes. Las mujeres
los ancianos se habían ido, los niños
y las canciones. El viento y la aurora
Fue en mil novecientos ochenta y ocho cuando me fui
Nicaragua

                         Estaba
Sola

Quedaron las bancas en el parque
(Tal vez una persona caminaba por ahí)
Yo tenía quince años cuando me fui de Nicaragua

No se escuchó más
el hablar de Rigoberto. Las balas cayeron
en su pecho como perlas. César y sus dos hermanos
se perdieron
Carlos quedó en la montaña

Las calles también desaparecieron
Mi casa estaba sola
Mi padre ya no estaba
Mi madre
Mis hermanos   (solos)

El palo de mango y el almendro se fueron
Las hormigas caminaron a la sombra
Yo caminé en la sombra

Mis vecinos—los de la casa grande—
iban comprando un sueño
Se fueron a Los Estados Unidos
Managua—Miami: vuelo directo

Yo me fui MOJADO
Pasé noches
        mojado
Volando sobre ríos
Sobre huertas y caminos
Me fui volando

Pasé a Guatemala, México y finalmente
                          entré
a los Estados Unidos de América

América no fue el nombre de mi amada
América fue mi sueño paralítico
América no era mi casa

Provista de gente y articulaciones:
Buses…Carros… Camiones
Fuerza Brutal

Hombres

      Blancos o caucásico
      
Negro afroamericano    
      
Nativo…asiático… latino…
Todos los colores
Bajo su rostro
cubría verbo y vergüenza
América no estaba sola

Fueron años oscuros
el sol caía diario sobre mi cara
hasta que un día más
no pudo esconderme
                        y me dejó regresar
Puso un sello en mi pecho y me dio alas

En mil novecientos noventa y nueve
un hombre va a entrar a Otra Nicaragua

En mil novecientos noventa y nueve
                                          
Nicaragua

                      Sigue estando
                                                 sola

En mi casa rodeado de familia y memoria
No volvió el palo de mango ni el almendro
Las hormigas continuaron en la sombra
Mi madre mis hermanos…

En mil novecientos noventa y nueve
Yo también estaba solo en Nicaragua

 

SALVATIERRA author photo SALVATIERRA Al NorteLeón Salvatierra is the author of Al Norte (2012), a book of poetry published by the University of Nicaragua. In 2014, he received a Ph. D. in Hispanic Languages and Literatures from the University of California, Berkeley, where he specialized in nineteenth and twentieth-century Latin American poetry. His literary work has been published in Central America and the United States, and recently translations of his poetic work have appeared in Poetry Magazine and the Notre Dame Review, and are forthcoming in a Central American Writing anthology, The Wandering Song. Currently, León is a Spanish Lecturer for the Peralta Community Colleges. In 1988, at the age of fifteen, he migrated to the United States and now lives in Berkeley.

 

HUERTA author photoJavier O. Huerta is the author of Some Clarifications y otros poemas and American Copia, both published by Arte Publico Press. He earned his MFA from the Bilingual Creative Writing Program at the University of Texas at El Paso. He translated Leon Salvatierra’s Al Norte as part of a larger project in which he is translating works in Spanish by undocumented and formerly undocumented writers. He lives in Berkeley, California.


“Because We Come from Everything: Poetry & Migration” is the first public offering of the newly formed Poetry Coalitiontwenty-two organizations dedicated to working together to promote the value poets bring to our culture and communities, as well as the important contributions poetry makes in the lives of people of all ages and backgrounds. Coalition member Letras Latinas at Notre Dame’s Institute for Latino Studies has partnered with the Best American Poetry blog to present ten poems in March that engage with this year’s theme, which borrows a line from U.S. Poet Laureate Juan Felipe Herrera’s poem, “Borderbus.” The poems in this project were curated by Francisco Aragón &  Emma Trelles.