Sestina: For the Valley of Mantaro of Peru

(Sestina):
For the Valley of Mantaro


The Valley’s disclosure of blossoming has come
from ancient mountains gorgeous with Spring.
Ringing, my body’s a-dancing today, and in my mind
kind winds unfold. A desire for the remote far winds….
Fading I see rainbow’s pedestal, a burning sapphire,
stones like opals, cover the mountains’ sunsets.

Is this home of Thine the last? If so it is the best!
As if an only daughter, she is nowise fair.
‘Tis but a path, the last; hast thou, I take her road.



Here in the valley, comes sprouts and dust from kings
kings: breathless wonderment, immemorial beauty—;
between the sunsets and the solitudes, an eternal splendor!
Beauty’s never long asleep—it is thy guarded friend!
Strange and dreamy are the stars thou followest.

Is this home of Thine the last? If so it is the best!
As if an only daughter, she is nowise fair.
‘Tis but a path, the last; hast thou, I take her road.



I saw the condor: in the valley, but a few nights past,
fast she flew, spilt into music, her winds of darkness;
dreaming things I have not known, I stood alone,
the moon hath set to mutiny, in these old white bones,
so their silence passed my world, tenderly, ye I stood
strange oh tender enchanted thoughts—enchanted me!

Is this home of Thine the last? If so it is the best!
As if an only daughter, she is nowise fair.
‘Tis but a path, the last; hast thou, I take her road.



Speak, for I wish to hear thy silver voice, moonlit.
Moonlight clear, mystical, within my farthest dream,
yet, in Thine eyes I see far tears! And I hear thee say:
‘I am spirit, ye but flesh, listen thou, what sayest ye,
thou to me, what have you done to my mountains
and my stream, it is now the shameful flow’r.’

Is this home of Thine the last? If so it is the best!
But I could not speak to the silver voice, moon lit,
her marvel, phenomenon, in her a farthest dream.



She comes, no longer silent, yet fragrance to thy heart,
what wouldst thou have me say? ‘All is fine from thy throne!’
Ah no! Ah no! I say to thee, your eyes are part of Paradise!
Ah yes! O goddess, alter-flame of the world, do not despair
blinding sight has caused thy heart to ache and rain,
yet your stars return to thy, your beauty, scarce it be.

Is this home of Thine the last? If so it is the best!
My heart is lost into the central valley of her delight,
O thou relentless satiety, pass the ramparts of my soul.



And she spoke to me again, with her silver moonlit voice,
‘Come forth with me, O prince!’ she said, ‘for far adventures wait.
Thy heart is warmer than the light, drowned in contentment,
go, and do not abandon me, thy footsteps I will see,
tell Christ you cannot leave, cling on to my arms, please!’
She is something beyond, far beyond, these human hours.

Here in the valley, comes sprouts and dust from kings
yet, in Thine eyes I see far tears! And I hear thee say:
‘…tell Christ you cannot leave, cling on to my arms, please!’



Note: in a Sestina, one often can feel (if done correctly) the creation of a rolling musical effect, almost like rolling down a hill, or mountain into a valley, which this was the effect I chose to produce in this poem. No: 1931 8-8-2007.