Why do this?

My father, José Luis Villamizar Melo, passed away in my home town of Cúcuta, Colombia, in August last year. The law and economics were Dad's profession, but literature, history and academia his passion. He wrote and published several books, articles and book chapters. The thing is that so many people have missed out on his work, particularly on his beautiful poetry, which he wrote in Spanish prior to the world wide web. So I thought, what a better way to keep Dad's legacy alive than to bring his writing beyond his world and share it with mine. That is why I am translating over 250 of my Dad's poems to English and publishing them here, one a day, Monday to Friday during 2011 (Dad, a family man, always believed that you shouldn't work on weekends).

Monday, January 3, 2011

A fine, blue and clear day (Un día claro, azul y transparente)

Hi folks. Thank you so much for the Facebook messages and words of encouragement over the weekend. I’m sure that wherever he is, Dad must be stoked that his work is being read in English!

Today, to officially farewell the holidays, T and I spent the day in Daylesford. It was a glorious sunny day, warm (but not too hot) and full of cheerful Melbournians enjoying scones and ice-cream, soaking in the sun and browsing overpriced stuff in the cool boutique shops along the main street. The steak sandwich and fish and chips we shared weren’t that fancy but the coffees and rocky road at the little chocolate shop on the corner were decadent. So tonight, I would like to share with you A fine, blue and clear day, from the book La ventana y la estrella (The window and the star). I’d love to hear your interpretation, I struggled not to lose my Dad’s romanticism in translation...you be the judge.

A fine, blue and clear day (Un día claro, azul y transparente)

On a fine, blue and clear day
like the clarity of your pure soul
I will inhabit your adolescent morning
with fertile, untouched sweetness.

The twilight will be intense, just laying there
the afternoon will wander
as if looking for love
to die in the dark, moonlit night, soft, iridescent.

And from dawn to the absolute night
the bursting, luminous beehive of our love
will fertilise its honey.

A swarm of stars up above
will carve out candles of conspicuous whiteness
and honey for all our sorrows.


  1. He really has an amazing way with words. This one is a bit like young love.

  2. Hi Lucy
    I know, I just kept thinking of my mum, and the bees and...yikes!