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Believing in Willimantic
by Rubén Palma
I believe you are like me
that when you fall you get up too
that when you cry you laugh as well
and that you grow in spite of an opposing wind
But they say
you can deceive
as the night deceives travelers
and memory at the same time
because it’s in your empty buildings
that you hide your ugly defeats
and it’s in the winter
that you show your hardest face
But that doesn’t worry me
because I too
have ugly defeats to hide
and a hard face to show in my winters
How can I not believe in you
If your temples and roads
make me feel America’s heart?
How can I not believe in you
If your fountain welcomed me, letting me drink
the fresh soul of the earth
How can I not believe in you
When the gentle frogs of your bridge
Take me through the 111 stories
I have not yet been able to tell?
How can I not believe in you
When your park has granted me the privilege
of dedicating this simple poem to you?
—Translated by Maria and Matt Proser
Rubén Palma wrote “Creyendo en Willimantic” (Believing in Willimantic) to thank the residents of our town for their warm hospitality. He read the poem in the Julia de Burgos Park on June 10, 2004. On November 5, 2004, he recited the poem on radio station WILI, and the station immediately received requests for copies of the poem.
Mr. Palma is the author of a collection of short stories, The Trail We Leave (Curbstone Press, 2004), stories that deal with his exile in Denmark. For more information visit Curbstone’s web site: www.curbstone.org.
CREYENDO EN WILLIMANTIC
By Rubén Palma
Creo que eres como yo
que cuando caes también te levantas
que cuando lloras también ríes
y que creces con el viento en contra
Pero alguien me ha dicho
que puedes engañar
como la noche engaña a los viajeros,
y los recuerdos al ahora
porque es en tus edificios vacíos
que ocultas feas derrotas
y es en invierno
que muestras tu rostro más duro
Pero eso no me preocupa de verdad
porque yo también
tengo feas derrotas que ocultar
y duros rostros que mostrar en mis inviernos
Cómo no he de creer en ti?
si tus templos y caminos
me hacen sentir el corazón de América
Cómo no he de creer en ti?
si tu fuente me recibió
permitiéndome beber el alma fresca de la tierra
Cómo no he de creer en ti?
si los amables sapos de tu puente me llevan
por las 111 historias
que aún no he podido contar
Cómo no ha de creer en ti?
si este parque me he premiado
dedicándote este simple poema
—Rubén Palma
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