Hispania Citerior Canto IV: Vich.

24

A new way of life 'twas ready to dawn,

And arriv'd he in Vich one fateful morn',

On a plain where many think of naught but gain,

Where e'en the priest poet Verdaguer was driven insane!

25

The descent 'twas steep yet not easily apparent,

Entrance to Vich Castell ne'er did happen,

Try 'though thou didst -all but in vain!

The dwellers thereabouts gave o'er naught but pain.

26

Speaketh we not like those of thy kind,

Against Castile who wanteth only to bind,

Like the vile oppressors hast thou now found,

That unto them shalt we ne'er be bound!

27

That brute! Castile! Aristocratic effeteness!

Lacketh thee common sense, thy former greatness!

'Tis from thee now long deceas'd,

Hardly wouldst thy sloth and privilege release!

28

Who carries the burden of thy infamous fame?

El burro Català -work'd hard until lame,

They releas'd a pestilence across our land,

Submit to the crown -whilst ye can!

29

La fet differential 'though first amongst merits,

Causeth untold blindness, deaf dost but say it,

Addictions obsessive to things material, 

Canst thou perceiveth aught more espiritual?

30

Of classical austerity know not they,

A land of butifara and a bail of hay,

An obstinate resistance doth there hark,

La Lengua del Imperio not here heard bark'd!

31

Conflicted interests heed thee be!

What matter thy contrasts that ye doth see?

That from up close seem so immense?

Mutual respect! Ne here nor there! Feelings intense!

32 

A history long drawn out, ne'er forgot,

That to the rote, acceptest not thy lot!

A culture once scorn'd is alike to a lady,

Who craves rather revenge, sooth not the malady!

33

To be fore'er ne "for" nor "against",

And see beyond where wouldst others put up a fence,

'Tis not such a task so easily done,

So from that scorch'd earth he found himself gone...

34

Yet didst remain there some dear to his heart,

Who soften'd the bitter torment -that necessity of art,

While he regal'd himself of the days there spent,

To a nostalgic sentiment he didst passively relent.

35

Many more an emotion travers'd his soul,

And without those few who help'd him towards his goal,

Wouldst he not hath been perhaps better?

To have given more? Focus'd? On to the letter?

36

Such as the night gave o'er to you,

And thy Valencian friend aught to do,

The e'ening pass'd swiftly, rauxous in zest,

Many a consumption sank down on behest!

37

There that night didst they meet,

An Andalusian girl in a backstreet,

Who led 'em forth, all were in earnest,

To a pack'd out place in the midst of a furnace!

38

There the heat of the summer noon tide,

Didst but inflame those passions inside,

And there by the side, stood by a cage,

A dark featur'd Hembra sent his heart into rage!

39

Someone to fill out the void of the nights,

While upon the dawn disinterest 'twas felt for the fight,

Enlanc'd one unto the other, pass'd the twilight,

Made all the more blissful and of solitude slight.

40

There 'twas but ano'er who twisted his heart,

And play'd to his measure, understood rarely thou art,

A playful girl of shambolic renown, 

The two pass'd their time, drunken -that's how!

41

Further into the mists of the town,

A place so enclos'd as to leave ye unbound,

That there couldst thou follow a life led with ease,

And chase after the mantra, "Do as ye please!"

42

Taken on through a night full of revelry,

Fallen back broken down destructively,

Out and about wouldst I wish thee to be!

Not mine but your own! Virtually free!

43

Onward bound to the soft spark of day,

The rains wouldst pour down in their own way,

Not down from the sky in an e'en descent,

Rather cascading from rooftops -heaven be spent!

44

Up out of the ground, gushing unused,

The town became so much more than abus'd,

Aught not to come about these realms, a monsoon!

Rather leave off thy waters! From hell! Thee doth croon!

45

On his doorstep maltreated -The Temple of Zeus,

Fitfully broken, impious abuse!

Out of its context put to any a use,

No wonder Olympus' father sends rains so obtuse!

46

The end of an era you signal'd us near,

What sayeth thee Athena? Who lead me here?

The Gods canst not show us their thanks,

'Tis through we they speak, rather in angst!

47

For what dost thou wait? Onward! Proceed!

Believeth thee that thy feet doth bleed?

The moment 'tis ripe, let young fruit be pluck'd!

'Lest it fall unwanted, down to the ground be shook!

Hispania Citerior Canto III: Valentia.

16

The wayward path leads on into the south,

Blistering days did aught but quench the mouth,

Taken up thy roaming route yet agen,

To distant towns and valleys far from fame.

17

Arriv'd thou didst where Valentia grac'd,

And fire burnt slowly -ne'er in haste,

When figures of sizable repute carefully built,

All in a day reduc'd to ashes and spilt!

18

Las Fallas' flames were quickly fan'd,

E'er upwards those fumes fit the demand!

For riotous mayhem prancing all about town,

Not 'till day's dawn couldst thee rest thy head down!

19

The revelers frolick'd on into the twilight,

Set to query naught, each moment a highlight,

An unpredictable pace of song and dance,

Whence e'erything seem'd not destin'd but chance!

20

And when finally at last, from moonlight departed,

A weary state into sleep thee then darted,

A place of shelters, couldst thee find not,

Rather below The Palace of Science, accept now thy lot!

21

Across those waters appear'd unto he,

A shadow so luminous, in a daze he saw thee,

That sparkl'd before him in the new found light,

We worry for reason lest ye fall far from sight!

22

A guardian thou then seemest to he,

Howe'er protecting from ignorance, the extremity,

The Palace of Science rose like a vision,

But thy entrance 'twas barr'd! As if but a prison!

23

Moving further afield! Awaken thee! Now!

Rejuvenated senses impel thee how!

An exctatic eruption his soul didst let out!

Wandering ways! High spirits! Once agen let shout!

Hispania Citerior Canto II: Tarraco.

9

Further on through now to lands of old,

Pagans founded there once or pitifully sold,

Stones laid out which still canst speak,

Of grander times now sank below their peak.

10

Arrival 'twas had not long after dawn,

The city where before Hispania was born,

Passing on thereabouts in the opposite direction,

Where Scipio once went to quell insurrection.

11

Tarraco howe'er before naught 'cept a town,

Hast grown thee well, 'twere outward bound,

Via Augusta settl'd thee not thy plain limits,

The boundary -The Ebro, respected not e'en for minutes!

12

Of Hispania Citerior here endeth thee,

An impatient stroll toward the coast impell'd he,

Through Tarraco's deserted streets 'twas told,

A new dawning day begins to unfold.

13

The sun riseth e'er so high above,

Mare Nostrum, ye whose sight I do love,

Underneath which the gushing waves,

Desire ne'er to leave but rather save.

14

A theatre by thy sands, a near distant vista,

A pleasant pile endearingly greets her,

Stone blocks of old Antigone's abode,

Where tears didst then soak and corrode!

15

Unto this enchanting spell bound place,

Where Sophocles didst write for a worthy race,

And the condición humana e'er precisely,

Captur'd herein, but endeth none too nicely.

Hispania Citerior Canto I: Empúries.

1

By the waves where tempests brew,

Ano'er life long ago had been slew,

The salty dew whence other times knew,

A favour'd one led all but a few.

2

Along the far reaching coastline sail'd,

Didst thou not find an artful gale,

The storms didst rise so forcefully yet,

To Neptune didst thee pay little thy debt!

3

Finding fault in all the land,

Where Greeks had trail'd on through the sand,

Nor wouldst thou hath been safe in the city,

Of eternal Rome if not for Dido's frail pity.

4

The Empúrdian valley a glint from the sea,

Wandering first comers, they were to be,

Settl'd in that place, a colony so distant,

The land of Hispania, nam'd on from that instant.

5

On through the gates 'though they be hardly,

Of Scion size yet still of grandure perhaps partly,

Columns were lined half ruin'd or reclin'd

Cast back to the mists whose times refuse to decide.

6

Asklepios! Whether 'tis thee truly,

In thy moment of dearest need -left so unruly,

Couldst thou not have work'd thy wonders?

Upon one who ne’er seem'd to hath gone under?

7

Up towards the Agora's wide open space,

Where bartering once held sway -'twas the place,

Many a merchant man found his reward,

Left only in final days, with needs must to hoard.

8

'Twas told once in those of antique time,

Thereabouts a port didst rise above the brine,

Which rival'd e'en thee Gades in thy decline,

The adopted son didst think "Iberia! Now thou art mine!"

Hispania Ulterior Canto IX: Epilogue.

129

Lead thyself far from humanity's dark ills,

Think he cur’d? Who taketh too many pills?

Oh how hard! Life seemeth as if liv'd on trial!

Remaineth clean! Don't sink in that stink and bile!

130

Think thee curs'd for not having play'd their game?

They made up the rules to keep thee but tame!

Don't you see? That which really shouldst matter?

'Tis squander'd daily! In pursuit of useless tatter!

131

So endeth here at last, the first part of my song,

Howe'er from these lands my heart hast not yet gone,

Shouldst I to live out here the remainder of my days,

Perhaps, perchance view'd in desolate ways!

132

Maybe shalt thou see, my will be further bent,

To regale thee more and not repent,

That shouldst thou to me, lend an ear,

Many ano'er amusing history shalt thou hear!

133

For thy valuable time, I thank thee now,

Spent here recounting I know not how,

And hope seem'd it not a terrible waste,

Now, back to the land of Samsara! Make thee haste!

Hispania Ulterior canto XIII: Toledum.

107

Toledo! Precious light of Hispania's cities!

Where many a destiny denied mention thy frailties!

Thou hast seen many a Gothic King,

Of the Vandal, Moor and Christian thy murals still sing!

108

Thou art the jewel of Hispania Ulterior,

And Madrid 'twas built only to protect thy grandure,

Islam didst repent that fatal day,

When Christians took thy walls and came to stay!

109

E'en unto these days of late,

Toledo canst be enter’d by the eastern gate,

And crossing the river, in the early morn',

O'er bridges protected by swords now undrawn.

110

And enter thee through Moorish arches,

Rise up those steps like a conquistador who charges,

Led on by an impatient need to sack,

And fill thy desolate soul's immodest lack!

111

The first encounter high above the steps,

Be the Alcázar's military enclave, yet,

A sight of power projecteth thee,

That struts to uphold petty tyranny!

112 

'Twas here that General Franco made his claim,

To absolute power, war was his game,

The Alcázar's "relief" from Republican rule,

Term'd howe'er "liberation" from communist barracks' gruel!

113

Of Cathedrals Hispania dost boast a few,

And fine white wall'd Synagogues, left by the Jew,

When Catholic Kings forc'd him from his land,

Religious tolerance being too much to stand!

114

Toledo 'tis a citadel doubly defended,

The river runs 'round it and pretended,

To preserve its pristine magnificence,

From descent into the outer world's decadence.

115

Here seemeth a world in time presev'd,

Cut off from many a century undeserv'd,

To be but a ghost town a relic of past glory,

Where soothsayers tell of old, but ne'er new stories!

116

Hereabouts didst live Domenikos Theotokopoulos,

"The Greek" he was call'd by those at a true loss,

As to pronunciation of a name so long,

By their admitted ignorance of the Grecian tongue.

117

Domenikos was a son of the Island of Crete,

Yet to Italia's Renaissance he made swift retreat,

And at Venice by Titian's acute guidance,

Found he was gifted for artistic license.

118

Despite the church's ubiquitous influence on,

Themes fit for painters, in those days far from gone,

Domenikos found his own unique vision,

Breathing new life into old subject matter with precision.

119

'Twas with the Spanish clergy, he found his way,

Or rather lost it -depending who hath his say,

Found himself then from that day residing,

Within Toledo's walls, in seclusion not hiding.

120

He had a certain way of capturing a subject's soul,

Or essence in oils that embody'd the whole,

Which brought about a far reaching harmonic sense,

A stylistic innovation, emotionally intense!

121

"El Intierro del conde Orgaz" he paints,

Many a Spanish nobleman together with Saints,

That money couldst not prove eternity too long,

Yet by a brushstroke amendeth thy enmity wrong!

122

And unto such images of Christ he gave birth,

Yet set strangely amongst Spanish knights of worth,

Pious servants seemeth they of our Lord!

Far from mere brutes! With an excuse for the sword!

123

'Tis through here that many a pauper hath pass'd, 

Looking to make a fortune or some bread crumbs last,

Not to mention one Lazarillo de Tormes, he of late,

Who didst get himself into many a fine scrape!

124

Led he a life describ'd only as picturesque,

By no fault of his own became quite a villain, nay,

Playing his tricks on both the 'haves' and 'have nots',

Doing aught to fill his belly by roguish plots!

125

E'en the proud be reduc'd to desperate measures,

Prey upon others who doth not appreciate pleasures!

'Tis easy to walk on by, say "the system's to blame",

What will it cost? To release humanity from foul shame?

126

Yet to others dignity still be a thing too strong,

Wouldst they rather starve to death, lingering long,

A drawn out end perhaps 'tis prefer'd by some,

To asking for alms, begging, take pity on our young!

127

Howe'er poverty remaineth so whilst isolated on corners,

On thy knees thou doth find few amongst thy mourners,

Until that day, strength stands in its own way,

Find release from dependance! Vile creatures of clay!

128

Traverse thee by any of today's remote back alleys,

There shalt thou find many a Lazarillo's ally,

Organiz'd crime leadeth tourist trades array,

E'en the desolate crave dignity! Who's to pay?