A stall at the marketplace (Puesto en la plaza de mercado)

Let’s head out for the markets this weekend and find the herb that cures all sorrows! From my Dad’s book Elementary motherland (Patria elemental).

A stall at the marketplace (Puesto en la plaza de mercado)

Here is the stall with the fruit

and medicinal plants, fresh, still icy,

just arrived under the cover in the back of the morning truck,

which brought, just as confined,

the first light of day from the countryside.

With dawn come small bundles of branches

which have a special place and a price for their aroma and virtues.

Each one of them has something to do with the life of the body,

the life of the soul and love like the expression of this final life.

To maintain the rhythm of the spirit at an appropriate level,

for the liver to function well as the regulator of love,

for sleep to arrive on time to caress dreams as a sedative

in the melancholic hours…basil, peppermint, lemon balm,

borage and lime, plantain, camomile,

‘Condiamor’, purple ‘Cariaquito’,

rhubarb, even the ‘Mountain flower’

with its cruel fate.

These do not come alone. Dripping with dew

the flowers make them company. Flowers domesticated

for consumption during moments of grief

and the joy of other hours…