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).

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Confines for our dreams (Ambito para los sueños)

To my Mum on the day of her 52nd wedding anniversary with my Dad. From my Dad’s book Under the shadow (Sombrabajo).

Confines for our dreams (Ambito para los sueños)

This house will be inhabited by life and the dreams of many.
First of all it will be occupied until death
by the vanities that inspired the desire for it to be the way it is,
full of lights and voices,
the spotless whiteness of the walls,
the soothing freshness of the stone,
the rhythm of the water in the small fountain,
the green lawns, the roses and the trees.
The intimacy of the bedrooms
sheltered in the half-light of the galleries,
made, precisely for that, in a natural way,
to measure the days, so the measurement
of the days left to live with plenitude
feels long.

It can be walked along with eyes closed.
Each of us put a little of themselves there.
We will find what is ours
without effort, with no rush, because in each wall,
in each column, on the roofs,
in the foundations that hold the house
persists the essence that preceded the things
in every creation that emotion dominates.

The children will grow. Luzmyla and I will go forward
until the end. One day
we will pay death tribute.

The house will begin to fill up with memories,
time will start its duty.
From then on the house and the absent
will be one notion, an idea without distinction.

We will tell or those who can say it will tell
which was the most loved corner of the one who left forever,
where he liked to rest, the lamp that lit his reading,
the book that he used to hold in his hand,
the place where his voice once raised irritated
and another time when it was compassion.

In this house friends will always
find the door wide open
and will find kindness in the heart
of those who inhabit it.
It does not matter that we love in it
or that once hatred creep up the walls.
We will insist in living the days
without wondering when they will end.

Meanwhile we will grow the garden.
We will let the air come in through the patios.
We will use the veranda to enjoy the rain.
The trees will have our constant care
and we will invite the birds to the banquet of their fruit.

Life will inhabit this house
and permission without limits is given
to dream all kinds of dreams.

1 comment:

  1. i want to use those last three lines to make a beautiful embroidery to hang in the house.
    so lovely.