Re: Translations

appropriated from Elisa Chavez


The Siren and the Fisherman

The siren was lifted from the seas
to find her place on dry land.
By the beach, the fisherman came upon her,
a beautiful unnetted catch.
Her tail, still wet and glistening; scales
running down her breast, her arms, her face,
a veil of waves that followed in her wake.

The fisherman took that trailing tail,
shortened it, divided it in two.
"Now," he told her, "these legs are your own.
Will you not walk with me?"

The siren began her song, telling the ocean
that she had found aid, all trace of blood transformed
into rainbows amidst the shore and sand.

She sang to the fisherman, "I forgive you,
I forgive you, I forgive you." 


Perfection

A woman built a house
on nothing.
It lacked all human comforts, but was beautiful.
She tried to grow a pear tree, always
left the door hanging open should her
darlings wander in. The windows stretched high 
and the sun glared through. The roof leaked
in torrents after a storm,
and she was trying to repair it.

The man, who had not laid
a brick of its foundations, saw the house and
exclaimed, "How can you live like this! The windows
crooked! The lamps
burning dim. We need to
burn this house down and build again." 

The woman looked around and knew
that he was right, this man
who'd had no hand in its construction:
in none of it had she found perfection.

She humbly said, "You're right, sir.
But where would I live come morning?"