Give Me Your Hand

Give me your hand and give me your love, give me your hand and dance with me. A single flower, and nothing more, a single flower is all we'll be. Keeping time in the dance together, you'll be singing the song with me. Grass in the wind, and nothing more, grass in the wind is all we'll be. I'm called Hope and you're called Rose: but losing our names we'll both go free, a dance on the hills, and nothing more, a dance on the hills is all we'll be. Mo Chara Fatima, Yesterday you asked me when this: "We are guilty of many errors and many faults but our worst crime is abandoning the children, neglecting the fountain of life. Many of the things we need can wait. The child cannot. Right now is the time his bones are being formed, his blood is being made, and his senses are being developed. To him we cannot answer "Tomorrow." His name is "Today." — Gabriela Mistral." appeared in the blog header. Yesterday :-) Siun, another reader here, had emailed me about something else but her note reminded me that I've been meaning to put that up for quite a while. So I upped and did it. Her poetry is beautiful, often heartbreaking, and even in translation worth the effort. Wikipedia have a good entry on her life here and there are some of her poems translated into English here. The Author's Calendar have a good page on her here. Siun and I share an enthusiasm for Ursula K. LeGuin's writing I found out a few months ago that she translated and published some of Mistral's poetry: This is the first presentation in English and Spanish of a really substantial selection of the poetry of Mistral — the first Latin American, and the only Latin American woman, to receive the Nobel Prize. All five of Mistral's books — Desolacion, Ternura, Tala, Lagar, and Poema de Chile — are fully represented, with an introductory note and a biographical sketch for each. This translation was a labor of love for many years. There is no other voice in poetry like Mistral's, from the miraculous clarity of her rounds and lullabyes, to the fiery rage of her love poems, to the dark complexity and visionary power of her late work. I hope this book may begin to restore this amazing poet to the recognition she deserves. Most of all I hope it comes to the hands of readers who will love her. — Ursula K. Le Guin Le gach dea mhéin agus fíor mheas go duitse, Omar, agus do chlann go léir. Mháircaish.