Poems by Miguel Asturias- ScuttlebugTripod.com

Here  are some of Asturias Poems Please Note the Translator could not Translate all the words of the poems

Winter By Miguel Angel Astruias (Paris, from 1929 to 1932) In wind knees, galgo and treads Fui behind you, woman in my presence Transported by agile star light Of sense in sense until the absence. You crossed, love the egoismos That in silica of tears sleeplessness Juxtaposing abysses on abysses In my insoluble ice solitude. The great spider of rain tiles With water and wind movable spiderwebs That morning will be when it clears? Glass surface without break, As they are my immovable eyes when Have cried all its weeping already. The Indians Come Down From Mixco By Miguel Angel Asturias The Indians come down from Mixco Laden with deep blue And the city with its frightened Streets receives them With a handful of lights That, like stars, are extinguished When daybreak comes. A sound of heartbeats Is in their hands that stroke The wind like two oars; And from their feet fall Prints like little soles In the dust of the road. The stars that peep out At Mixco stay in Mixco Because the Indians catch them For baskets that they fill With chickens and the big white flowers Of the golden Spanish bayonet. The life of the Indians Is quieter than ours, And when they come down from Mixco They make no sound but the panting That sometimes hisses on their lips Like a silken serpent. D. D. W. The Love By Miguel Angel Austrias (Paris, 1925) Ah, smooth eagerness, exact and useless pain, Climate of a lukewarm skin like a trino, Privily mystery the chain Forging it is just by being divine! Astral tonicidad of its recreations, Precious solitude of its combats, In alarm lantern its desires Burning it is from fields to penates. Eternity of rose petal, Silence blue of poplar that aroma, To manjar of shade with wife heat, Prohibited fruit which in they pollen is mistaken, Weaving it is with dove wings, The dress of fiancée of the Earth.   Picture of Grandparents By Miguel Angel Asturias (Guatemala-Paris 1918-1928) Memory that in the pink days of my childhood, The grandmother (of whom is the grandparents, of the children), She was accustomed to by the nights, when the lukewarm instance It seemed a candy box of the moon, To count old histories. Today no longer I know no. Slowly opening the coffers of my grandfathers, It gave me to that it kissed the leaf of its sword. It kept is many years relojon of silver, A white flag and blue sky color, The star of a spur and a bow of necktie. I conserve those memories that it bequeathed to me of a man And I have in the relics of my ancestors The history of my house, the glory of my name, And I keep in those coffers that always are open The picture of weddings of my dead grandparents.