波多黎各 马托斯 Luis Pales Matos  波多黎各   (1899~1959)
One poem at a time

Luis Pales Matos
  Mercy ah, God, for my poor heart of towns and villages have mercy!
  Emptiness of my poor people will be bored to death!
  Spend time in the old notary public
  Worry about trivial trivia like a mouse;
  Big belly will stem the mayor of obesity
  Dipped in the sap of life is like dipping sauce;
  Slow trading millennium changed,
  A group of goats jump in the sunny plaza;
  A beggar, a gray and full of moss Shouma scabies
  Through the wide streets;
  Sunday, the cold, sleepy like saliva, difficult and fall asleep,
  Playing marbles, playing cards, gathered in the casino;
  In the ancient village of bland
  The lives of these disgusting,
  All this will be the pampered, free
  And fall, collapse, death.
  Mercy ah. God! Towns and villages of my poor heart have mercy!
  In these simple soul released a rogue
  So that he will be a performance of unusual stones ransom
  Investment in their lives, dead water of this beach ... ...
  Release of a thief, let him the house at night, looting banks,
  Release of a Tang Juan, so that he raped a girl who virtuous,
  Gambling industry released a gambler, so he mixed village
  Up_set_s the gentle, respectable villagers who Xinhuang Huang.
  Mercy, ah, God! Towns and villages of my poor heart have mercy!
  My poor people will be bored to death there empty!
Translated by Google

Luis Pales Matos
  Barren desolate land
  Drilled a cactus.
  Soil nitrate vast expanse of whiteness, and the birds flying
  Thirst heart to tears.
  A piece of dried-up swamp
  Interval large expanse of
  Dark, stagnant, silent sky
  Shrouded in all directions.
  Sun baked the red swamp
  Looked like the soup,
  Hot sand
  Reflected light and dry.
  When night falls before collar,
  Silence sad,
  Sucking from the undercurrent of darkness
  A skin disease clams die
  Uttered a scream.
  Fear of suffocation, desolate.
  Hard crust of oppression
  Dead line below
  Everything here is subjected to suffering in silence,
  A few yellow goat
  Grew up in the sparse shrubs,
  Far from a cattle
  Recollection of a sleeping alone and tired.
  This is a barren desolate land.
  The flames pouring height
  The swamp was filled with
  Corruption and bad breath;
  Something dark and moldy
  Flash wildfire that night,
  And to the specter of those slender
  O listen to the wilderness swinging.
  This is where I grew up.
  My childhood, like a mountain goat
  In this world full of disgust and hatred wasteland
  Children enjoy the shoot.
  This is all I have experience:
  Salt, drought, tiredness,
  To name full of sadness,
  An unwavering firmness,
  The Call of the depths of his heart;
  Like a stubborn terrible mushroom
  Grow in soft soil
  Filled with vain, dashed hopes.
Translated by Google
村镇
地貌