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).

Friday, April 22, 2011

Good Friday (Viernes Santo)

By the cross we, too, are crucified with Christ; but alive in Christ. We are no more rebels, but servants; no more servants, but sons! "Let it be counted folly," says Hooker, "or fury, or frenzy, or whatever else; it is our wisdom and our comfort. We care for no knowledge in the world but this, that man hath sinned, and that God hath suffered; that God has made Himself the Son of Man, and that men are made the righteousness of God."
Frederic William Farrar

From my Dad’s book The celebrated afternoon (La tarde festejada). 

Good Friday (Viernes Santo)

Whilst the bell in the tower
announces the sadness of these days
of sorrow in the light of the liturgy,
my heart insists in the stubbornness
of feeling like a golden altar
where the melancholy officiates,
changed then into sweet hope
and made of love and warmth and poetry.

Ah, your eyes, your noble forehead,
the pure ray of sun that gilds your hair,
your hands at the service of love
when they examine the promising flesh
and your pure heart, tall and fraternal
counting the minutes that go by
until the inevitable possession
that started with the serpent of desire.

Forgive us for these days of wire girdle
for this love that sprouts in the profound
secret of two souls should deserve
your divine chastisement, Lord,
and even your hell.

A spark sets fire to my deepest being
and I feel weaker in these flames,
but also, Lord, I am sure
that this love that is killing me
will ascend to you as an offering
and you shall forgive me when my impulsive heart
breaks your law
because you will have proof that I have loved so much.


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