Hace unos días me invitaron a la clase de español de la Señora Melia en la escuela Bay View Academy .
Conocí a un maravilloso grupo de jóvenes que demostraron tener pasión por el idioma y muchas ganas de aprender. Las estudiantes eligieron un pseudónimo y dieron rienda suelta a la imaginación. He aquí el resultado:
“Me gustaría mirar lo bueno en las personas.”
Paz
“Yo sueño que no hay dolor ni tristeza. El mundo puede ser un lugar mejor.”
Adelita
“No guerra. No hatred.”
La Melodía
“Pero yo no quiero ser conocido. Quiero dar esperanza a la gente, uno por uno.”
“Besado por el sol la piel.” Esperanza
“Yo sueño que las personas sin voz encuentran su voz. Sueño que las personas sin amor se enamoren.”
Nómada
“Yo sueño que todo el mundo, we can work as one.”
Poco Loca
“La creatividad se nutre. Todo el mundo vivirá pasa siempre. Sin lluvia, sin lágrimas”
Agusto
“Podemos mostrar amor el uno al otro.”
Trébol de cuatro hojas
“El sol brilla en mi cuerpo
Transpiración, filtraciones
Hit, run, score!
Running, diving, sliding
Piel crece de nuevo.
Esto es el partido.
Me encanta. Softball.”
Destina Esperanza
“Pero con trabajo duro y compromiso puedo ser lo mejor que puedo ser.”
Sofía Margarita Vergara
“Yo sueño que haya paz en la tierra.”
María
“Yo quiero bailar siempre.”
Estrella
“Me gustaría ver diferentes culturas y yo espero que se convierta en parte de mí.”
Pelo Rubio
“Somos fuertes y tenemos esperanza. Nada nos puede faltar.”
Anonymous
Monday, January 23, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Performing @ AS220
El 2x1
Dos mujeres/Dos idiomas
Sheyla Rivera & Sussy Santana
Poetry readings/performance
January 21st, 2012
Empire Street, Providence
7:30 p.m.
Dos mujeres/Dos idiomas
Sheyla Rivera & Sussy Santana
Poetry readings/performance
January 21st, 2012
Empire Street, Providence
7:30 p.m.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Cruz de nubes
Se anuncia una lluvia de machetes
La tierra se traga un río
Desayuno sombrío
Una vulva de silencio y telaraña
Sale de mala calaña
Araña
Un héroe en ayunas reclama frente al vacío
Una sombrilla herida sobre el pavimento
Un vendedor que reparte tapones colectivos para oídos selectivos
Un jevito mocho que me mira disgustado
En África los albinos son perseguidos
Y yo que no sé qué leche ponerle a mi capuchino
Mis dedos caminan sobre el abecedario
“¡Qué llueva, qué llueva la Virgen de la Cueva!”
La tierra se traga un río
Desayuno sombrío
Una vulva de silencio y telaraña
Sale de mala calaña
Araña
Un héroe en ayunas reclama frente al vacío
Una sombrilla herida sobre el pavimento
Un vendedor que reparte tapones colectivos para oídos selectivos
Un jevito mocho que me mira disgustado
En África los albinos son perseguidos
Y yo que no sé qué leche ponerle a mi capuchino
Mis dedos caminan sobre el abecedario
“¡Qué llueva, qué llueva la Virgen de la Cueva!”
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Plea
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him feeling sad
Wouldn't want him waiting by the door
Wouldn't want his kisses scattered around the floor
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him sitting by himself
Wouldn't want him listening to my mother yell
Wouldn't want him dying a little each day
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him struggling to find himself
Wouldn't want him starting a conversation that never ends
Wouldn't want him wondering how to love himself
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him waiting by the door
Wouldn't want him feeling incomplete
Wouldn't want him wondering what to eat
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him reading to himself
Wouldn't want him wondering how to be a man
Wouldn't want him to forget the meaning of his name
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him finding loneliness
Wouldn't want him driving to this grave
Wouldn't want him meeting me this way
So please, don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him feeling sad
Wouldn't want him waiting by the door
Wouldn't want his kisses scattered around the floor
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him sitting by himself
Wouldn't want him listening to my mother yell
Wouldn't want him dying a little each day
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him struggling to find himself
Wouldn't want him starting a conversation that never ends
Wouldn't want him wondering how to love himself
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him waiting by the door
Wouldn't want him feeling incomplete
Wouldn't want him wondering what to eat
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him reading to himself
Wouldn't want him wondering how to be a man
Wouldn't want him to forget the meaning of his name
Don't tell my father I died today
Wouldn't want him finding loneliness
Wouldn't want him driving to this grave
Wouldn't want him meeting me this way
So please, don't tell my father I died today
Monday, November 14, 2011
4%
Un Nacho mutilado
Un diccionario de concreto
Una sombrilla sin sol
Un 4 por la educación
Un lápiz sin guía
Un maestro sin voz
Un cuaderno fantasma
Un senado de sordos
Una lucha que sigue pariendo amarillo...
Un diccionario de concreto
Una sombrilla sin sol
Un 4 por la educación
Un lápiz sin guía
Un maestro sin voz
Un cuaderno fantasma
Un senado de sordos
Una lucha que sigue pariendo amarillo...
Friday, November 4, 2011
Overtime
Working overtime not with my kids but for my kids
So they can get those fancy sneakers they dream about
Working late to build my house in Macorís with la marquesina techada
That will house my Toyota Camry del 94
Working overtime en la factoría
Gluing earrings to decorate selective hearings
Working for my couch and my maletas
Microwaving my dreams from 6 to 10
Wishing dollars will grow out of my mangú as I was promised
Working overtime to spend a week swimming in gold
At the all inclusive Bávaro-Something
Flashing my Prada at las sexy bailarinas
Inciting one more yola to leave this shore
Working overtime to watch my telenovelas
Going to the bank to realize that casi everything is translated
For my convenience
The Government must really love me!
Working overtime to bring back palito de coco for my co-worker
Only to see him cortandome los ojos because se le subió el Padrejón
Malagradecio abombao deguabinao
My mother told me que no me juntara con degraciao
Working overtime to remember that in twenty years I will be in Jarabacoa
Cogiendo freco en una hamaca
And this will all be a nightmare al estilo de Freddy Krueger or Uncle Sam
Que no es lo mismo pero es igual
Working overtime to pay my bills
Working overtime to largarme de aquí
Working overtime to realized that 20 years have passed me by.
So they can get those fancy sneakers they dream about
Working late to build my house in Macorís with la marquesina techada
That will house my Toyota Camry del 94
Working overtime en la factoría
Gluing earrings to decorate selective hearings
Working for my couch and my maletas
Microwaving my dreams from 6 to 10
Wishing dollars will grow out of my mangú as I was promised
Working overtime to spend a week swimming in gold
At the all inclusive Bávaro-Something
Flashing my Prada at las sexy bailarinas
Inciting one more yola to leave this shore
Working overtime to watch my telenovelas
Going to the bank to realize that casi everything is translated
For my convenience
The Government must really love me!
Working overtime to bring back palito de coco for my co-worker
Only to see him cortandome los ojos because se le subió el Padrejón
Malagradecio abombao deguabinao
My mother told me que no me juntara con degraciao
Working overtime to remember that in twenty years I will be in Jarabacoa
Cogiendo freco en una hamaca
And this will all be a nightmare al estilo de Freddy Krueger or Uncle Sam
Que no es lo mismo pero es igual
Working overtime to pay my bills
Working overtime to largarme de aquí
Working overtime to realized that 20 years have passed me by.
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