Poem
Mario Rivero
Ballad of the ready-skirt-girl
This is the ballad of the girl prodigal with herselfwho happy and shooting off colours
greets with her my-dear-love smile
all those who talk to her intimately with husbandly words
Men she has never seen before
solemnly rough or with rough jokes
They know and they look for her greedily
laying bare her white thighs in the darkness
A girl made for a bunch of flowers
a flirtatious girl
willing to do everything and for everybody
A girl who loved much too quickly and with all her body
and badly understood she was for that
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
spreads out the wave of her skirt towards me . . .
It happened as usual on the lazy fields of grass
when the sun was the sun and the heat the heat
Her mouth open to the fat spongy clouds of summer
and her skirt over her face covering her like a garden
Out of the corner of her eye she looked
when for her pleasure her favourite little friend
wooed her in a stifled embarrassed voice . . .
and something frothy and contented happens to her face
and makes it flush
as if he were tickling her with a green twig
Young men and old got between her sheets
to keep their world in peace
Happy to be near her
with a load of caresses
or an idiotic smile
before embracing her marvel
The girl . . .
the girl creates waves she turns into a beach
and her skirt sings like the waves!
The day was lazy and the night busy
They came one by one
or all at once
They formed a guard of honour for her
and they wrapped themselves in her smile
Her heart was a hostel
open for one night
And as if her little heart was a newly made nest
the toughest and the greatest trouble makers
came to her pleading: “Give us love give us love”
Tiredly confirming the good law of money
the ready-heart-girl
the ready-skirt-girl
stretches her naked arms out . . .
She stretches out her body with calm movements
night and day
for one and all
she opens herself up she turns around she shows herself
with naive wisdom
and what one sees is beautiful it’s strangely pleasing
and as she does all these things she will be “herself”
And that’s why when I listen in some place
to words muttered by someone passing by
to another girl with her heart also bursting
My swift thoughts go
to this ready-skirt-girl
intent on life and with good sense
who had only
that particular flame to offer
a fire to give life warmth
a fire to make life better
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
comes towards me moving with the slowness of a leaf . . .
Go then – all you girls
with the flame that warms the blood and brightens the eyes
winter is here outside it’s here in me
But tonight before the sleeping pills
let the image of the ready-skirt-girl appear
more and more slowly
making more and more waves
I need all her powerful memories . . .
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
and her-beach-her-beach-her-beach everywhere . . .
© Translation: 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Balada de la muchacha-de-la-pollera-pronta
Balada de la muchacha-de-la-pollera-pronta
Esta es la balada de la muchacha pródiga de sí mismaque alegre y detonante de colores
hace el saludo de su sonrisa de-mi-querido-amor
a los que la tutean con palabras de esposo
Hombres que nunca ha visto
solemnemente rústicos o con rústicas bromas
Ellos saben y la buscan golosamente
desnudando sus caderas blancas en la oscuridad
Una muchacha hecha para un ramo de flores
una chica galante dispuesta a todo y por todos
La que amaba demasiado pronto y con-todo-su-cuerpo
y por ello mal comprendida fue
La muchacha
la muchacha-de-la-pollera-pronta
hacia mí la ola de su pollera despliega . . .
Sucedió como suele sobre los pastos haraganes
cuando el sol era el sol y el calor el calor
La boca abierta hacia las gordas nubes fofas del verano
y la pollera sobre la cara como un jardín cubriéndola
De soslayo con la comisura de sus labios miraba
cuando el pequeño amigo favorito para el placer
la solicitaba con voz ahogada embarullándose . . .
y algo espumeante y feliz le sube a la cara
y se le arrebola
como si él le hiciese cosquillas con una ramita verde
Jóvenes y viejos se metían entre sus sábanas
para tener su mundo en paz
Contentos cerca de ella
con una carga de caricias
o con una sonrisa idiota
antes de abrazar su maravilla
La muchacha . . .
la muchacha engendra oleajes se vuelve playa
y su pollera canta como las olas!
El día era perezoso y la noche activa
Venían de uno en uno
o todos a la vez
Le formaban una “guardia de corps”
y se envolvían en su sonrisa
Su corazón era un albergue
abierto para una noche
Y como si fuera su corazoncito un nido recién hecho
los más rayados los más bochincheros
llegaban piando: “Dádnos amor dádnos amor”
Comprobando con fatiga la buena ley del metal
la muchacha-del-corazón-pronto
la muchacha-de-la-pollera-pronta
tiende sus brazos desnudos . . .
Ella extiende su cuerpo con ademanes calmosos
en el día en la noche
para todos para cada uno
se abre se da vuelta se muestra
con ingenua sapiencia
y lo que se ve es hermoso es extrañamente agradable
y al hacer todas estas cosas ella será “ella”.
Y así cuando escucho en algún lugar
palabra que alguien masculla al pasar
a otra muchacha de corazón también henchido
Mis pensamientos rápido son
para esta muchacha de la pollera-pronta
atenta a la vida con un buen sentido
que para ofrecer sólo tenía
aquella llama exacta
un fuego para calentar la vida
un fuego para vivir mejor
La muchacha
la muchacha-de-la-pollera-pronta
viene hacia mí moviéndose con pausa de hoja . . .
Muchachas ídos todas
con la llama que calienta la sangre y abrillanta los ojos
el invierno está aquí afuera está aquí en mí
Pero esta noche antes de los somníferos
dejad que avance la imagen de la muchacha-de-la-pollera-pronta
cada vez más lenta
cada vez más oleante
necesito de todos sus pujantes recuerdos . . .
La muchacha
la muchacha de la pollera pronta
y su playa-su-playa-su-playa por todas partes . . .
© 1980, Mario Rivero
From: Baladas
Publisher: Colcultura, Bogotá
From: Baladas
Publisher: Colcultura, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Mario Rivero
Close
Ballad of the ready-skirt-girl
This is the ballad of the girl prodigal with herselfwho happy and shooting off colours
greets with her my-dear-love smile
all those who talk to her intimately with husbandly words
Men she has never seen before
solemnly rough or with rough jokes
They know and they look for her greedily
laying bare her white thighs in the darkness
A girl made for a bunch of flowers
a flirtatious girl
willing to do everything and for everybody
A girl who loved much too quickly and with all her body
and badly understood she was for that
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
spreads out the wave of her skirt towards me . . .
It happened as usual on the lazy fields of grass
when the sun was the sun and the heat the heat
Her mouth open to the fat spongy clouds of summer
and her skirt over her face covering her like a garden
Out of the corner of her eye she looked
when for her pleasure her favourite little friend
wooed her in a stifled embarrassed voice . . .
and something frothy and contented happens to her face
and makes it flush
as if he were tickling her with a green twig
Young men and old got between her sheets
to keep their world in peace
Happy to be near her
with a load of caresses
or an idiotic smile
before embracing her marvel
The girl . . .
the girl creates waves she turns into a beach
and her skirt sings like the waves!
The day was lazy and the night busy
They came one by one
or all at once
They formed a guard of honour for her
and they wrapped themselves in her smile
Her heart was a hostel
open for one night
And as if her little heart was a newly made nest
the toughest and the greatest trouble makers
came to her pleading: “Give us love give us love”
Tiredly confirming the good law of money
the ready-heart-girl
the ready-skirt-girl
stretches her naked arms out . . .
She stretches out her body with calm movements
night and day
for one and all
she opens herself up she turns around she shows herself
with naive wisdom
and what one sees is beautiful it’s strangely pleasing
and as she does all these things she will be “herself”
And that’s why when I listen in some place
to words muttered by someone passing by
to another girl with her heart also bursting
My swift thoughts go
to this ready-skirt-girl
intent on life and with good sense
who had only
that particular flame to offer
a fire to give life warmth
a fire to make life better
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
comes towards me moving with the slowness of a leaf . . .
Go then – all you girls
with the flame that warms the blood and brightens the eyes
winter is here outside it’s here in me
But tonight before the sleeping pills
let the image of the ready-skirt-girl appear
more and more slowly
making more and more waves
I need all her powerful memories . . .
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
and her-beach-her-beach-her-beach everywhere . . .
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Baladas
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Baladas
Ballad of the ready-skirt-girl
This is the ballad of the girl prodigal with herselfwho happy and shooting off colours
greets with her my-dear-love smile
all those who talk to her intimately with husbandly words
Men she has never seen before
solemnly rough or with rough jokes
They know and they look for her greedily
laying bare her white thighs in the darkness
A girl made for a bunch of flowers
a flirtatious girl
willing to do everything and for everybody
A girl who loved much too quickly and with all her body
and badly understood she was for that
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
spreads out the wave of her skirt towards me . . .
It happened as usual on the lazy fields of grass
when the sun was the sun and the heat the heat
Her mouth open to the fat spongy clouds of summer
and her skirt over her face covering her like a garden
Out of the corner of her eye she looked
when for her pleasure her favourite little friend
wooed her in a stifled embarrassed voice . . .
and something frothy and contented happens to her face
and makes it flush
as if he were tickling her with a green twig
Young men and old got between her sheets
to keep their world in peace
Happy to be near her
with a load of caresses
or an idiotic smile
before embracing her marvel
The girl . . .
the girl creates waves she turns into a beach
and her skirt sings like the waves!
The day was lazy and the night busy
They came one by one
or all at once
They formed a guard of honour for her
and they wrapped themselves in her smile
Her heart was a hostel
open for one night
And as if her little heart was a newly made nest
the toughest and the greatest trouble makers
came to her pleading: “Give us love give us love”
Tiredly confirming the good law of money
the ready-heart-girl
the ready-skirt-girl
stretches her naked arms out . . .
She stretches out her body with calm movements
night and day
for one and all
she opens herself up she turns around she shows herself
with naive wisdom
and what one sees is beautiful it’s strangely pleasing
and as she does all these things she will be “herself”
And that’s why when I listen in some place
to words muttered by someone passing by
to another girl with her heart also bursting
My swift thoughts go
to this ready-skirt-girl
intent on life and with good sense
who had only
that particular flame to offer
a fire to give life warmth
a fire to make life better
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
comes towards me moving with the slowness of a leaf . . .
Go then – all you girls
with the flame that warms the blood and brightens the eyes
winter is here outside it’s here in me
But tonight before the sleeping pills
let the image of the ready-skirt-girl appear
more and more slowly
making more and more waves
I need all her powerful memories . . .
The girl
the ready-skirt-girl
and her-beach-her-beach-her-beach everywhere . . .
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère