This morning I read the New York Times’ obituary for Claribel
Alegría, a Nicaraguan/Salvadoran poet and novelist. I had read some of her work
in English translation years ago. But the NYT included a poem that touched my
heart.
Besides the coffee
They plant angels
In my country.
A chorus of children
And women
With the small white coffin
Move politely aside
As the harvest passes by.
They plant angels
In my country.
A chorus of children
And women
With the small white coffin
Move politely aside
As the harvest passes by.
I live in the midst of coffee and I have witnessed the
burial of the poor. Even as the people work on the harvest – for a pittance –
they slowly die as do their children.
If anyone has access to the Spanish, please let me know. I’d
love to share it with friends here in Honduras.
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