MACEDONIO FERNANDEZ ~

Enchantment

Profound and full

as two brief, graceful immensities,

your eyes dwell in your face

as masters;

and when I see the flame of a radiant soul,

playful in its ascent

in their depths,

it seems to me the morning,

appearing luminous between sea and sky

on the line that sways,

dreaming, between two blue empires,

the line that stops in our heart

to be caressed by our hopes

and kissed by our face

when our "being" meditates,

drying its tears,

and, silently,

opening to all the breezes of Life;

when we look

at the ashes of days gone by,

floating in the Past

like the dust of or pilgrimages

in the distance of the road.

Eyes that open like mornings,

and upon closing, let night fall.

It Was With Much Night

It was with much night

and great solitude.

Memory of company — what had been, and now was not.

It was the sole company of the lonely one

on a path before me I'd like to have anticipated.

A figure rose up so tender to me,

someone who saw me being born, and I saw die.

____________________

The Complete Poems

translated by Jessica Sequeira

Sublunary Editions, 2025

 

CLASSIC BLUEGRASS ~

 

PATRICIA JABBEH WESLEY ~

 

All the Soft Things of Earth

All the soft things of earth sighed when my mother died.

All the quiet noises of this world stopped, at once.

Not even the drying, wet leaves, after fall had tossed

them so. Not even the robin that sits upon a twig

in my backyard knew what to say when my mother died.

Not even wet tears that death demands.  All the soft

crevasses of this earth and of ground, sighed; the dent

crevasses of pavement after so many years.  All the hands

that tremble at bewilderment, my hands lie helpless

and cold on my lap.  When the wind blew past, it sighed

deep,  like taking in deep breaths of air, a laboring,

as if the universe had just stopped.  As if I had just died.

______________________________

Collected Poems, 1998-2020

edited by Kwame Dawes

University of Nebraska Press

2026

JOSE EMILIO PACHECO ~

 

A postcard for Jorge Guillen

 from Berkeley, California

           (in his ninetieth year)

Shadowy the servitude of the mole

to the root, sunk deeper and deeper

    to anchor

    the earth;

so it cannot slip

    out into the void

in its incessant turning.

Through the root the shadow ascends the tree,

blooming as leaves of light on the branch.

    So Guillen's

    poetry

draws its power from the darkest places,

and his philosopher's stone, his alchemy

    routes back

the shadowy matter

—of which we are, by misfortune, part—

    transformed

into a tree of light which blesses with fresh air.

Thank you, Jorge Guillen, for lending it brightness,

for teaching us to see this world.

translated by George McWhirter

_____________________

Selected Poems

New Directions, 2026

ISABEL LETELIER ~

 

I S A B E L   L E T E L I E R

Isabel Margarita Morel Gumucio was born on Jan. 3, 1932, in Santiago, Chile, died Oct 30, 2026 in Santiago

Ms. Letelier, center, and Mr. Letelier dancing at their home in Bethesda, Md., in 1976, a few days before Mr. Letelier was killed.Credit...Marcelo Montecinon, via Letelier Family