“The Challenge”
The singer-poet(1) Florentino
by the wide terreplein
towards El Desamparo
travels round about six.
The singer-poet Florentino ...
Riding in the loneliness
blackened by yesterday’s flames,
clusters of flying dust
rise under the horse.
Like a blind eye the pond
without stork, rush or flock,
hard lumped basin
where the hoof stumbles.
The squalid cactus
bares its yellowness,
the harvest fly rattles
the ashy sunset.
It seems to stop the world
the palm tree without its sway.
The lonely poet-singer
carries his deep pride
of walking on unplowed land
as if it were a flower garden.
In the Las Animas ditch
he stops dying of thirst
and by the trunk of the chestnut tree
he sees the glitter of a pond.
He throws the water bottle
and on water he hears it fall;
as he lifts it back towards him
water wets his feet
but from the empty bottle
not one drop could he drink.
He throws it again and splashes
the clear water again,
but only sand his eyes
in the turbid bottom can see.
The breath like a burning gust,
the palfrey at slow pace,
look and bearing the singer-poet
sets toward his cabin,
when with a somber trot
he hears a rider behind him.
Black is his poncho,
black is also his horse;
under his black high-hat
the face cannot be seen.
Rides by singing a couplet
without turning his head:
— Friend, if you dare,
wait for me in Santa Inés,
where I will be looking for you
to sing with you.
Evil shadow of horror
crosses the terraplein.
Remote cowboys
accompany him in a bustle;
he is covered and obscured
by the grass of sunset.
Florentino taciturn
cuts across the plains.
Riding in the loneliness
blackened by yesterday’s flames
he seems to be dreaming
with the savanna at his temple.
In a long and deep verse
his faithful tune stretches:
— Savanna, savanna, land
that makes you sweat and love,
a place with many routes
with water and dying of thirst,
one with my soul in its solitude,
one with God in the Faith;
over your bare chest
I stop to answer:
let the somber singer know
that I abide by my law
and as I have sung with all
I have to sing with him.
“The Duel”
Night of fiery squall
all over the mourning plain,
and of aroused “cipolas”(2)
that light up the laborer’s hut.
Inside the “capacho”(3) sounds,
outside the rain pours;
vein in the heart of cedar
the bass string oozes tenderness;
not far the river appears
breast of dirty savanna;
further away wandering choirs,
wind of black fury;
and while the rhythm weaves
sadness with “bandola”(4)
the lightning to the palm tree
fires solitary rays.
Suddenly a man at the door:
Indian of grave attitude,
black eyes, black hair,
forehead of fiery wrinkle.
Shiny high hat
that glitters under the oil lamp.
A gust of daring wind
blows his shirt open,
and one inch can be seen
of a knife under his belt.
Comes in quietly and goes
to where the music is.
Listen friend, it is the Devil,
— the rumor spreads across the room —.
See how he arrived,
with all the mud and rain,
ironed and dry his clothes
without poncho or mount.
They say he went by earlier
like someone coming from Nutrias,
with a dark boatman
by the Las Brujas pass.
Florentino is whistling
tunes of past bravery
and his right hand sets flying
longing pressed down by his left
when the Indian silver-tonged
with his song salutes him.
“The Devil”
“Catire quita pesares”(5)
answer me this question:
who is he who drinks sand
in the darkest night?
Florentino
In the darkest night
the bad thing is not the attack of the spear
but not to return it.
It must drink sand
he who never drinks water.
The Devil
He who never drinks water.
Anybody can answer
avoiding the question.
Who satiates the thirst without water
in a pond of pure sand?
Florentino
In a pond of pure sand,
the solitary dune,
the soul that crosses it,
the night that shelters it,
the star that lights it.
It is not my fault, gentlemen,
if he who looks for me finds me!
The Devil
Since you have so many skills
allow me to see them.
It is now quarter to one
when the oil lamp quivers,
when the ghost without direction
with its pain scours the plain,
when Florentino stops singing
and so he lost his fight,
when the “pavita”(6) sings,
when the rooster crows.
Florentino
When the rooster crows
my throat gets in tune
and my ideas become clear.
I am like the cactus
that flowers in the plain:
I give perfume to the passer-by
and thorn to the one that shakes me.
The Devil
Thorn to the one that shakes me:
Well, then! I am wanting to stay
and you drive me on.
Can’t you see I am undecided
with this ugly night.
Put yourself ahead
so you can see me in the dark.
Florentino
So you can see me in the dark.
My friend don’t get so close
or your beast will go out of control.
Behind and ahead is the same
if one doesn’t carry a hobble:
the one behind looks ahead
and the one ahead turns his head.
The Devil
The one ahead turns his head.
“My man, you sing quite well
but forget the idea
that you can teach me
how to sing a “corrío.”(7)
The dogs are howling
listen to their howls,
the roosters are crowing,
remember our deal.(8)
“Vultures of ‘La Barrosa’
from ‘Alcornocal del frío,’(9)
congratulations I ask, gentlemen,
for already Florentino is mine.”
Florentino
For already Florentino is mine.
If you say that I am yours
it must be because I sold myself to you,
if I sold myself pay me
because I give credit to no one.
I am not a silly bird
to be warming up the nest.
The Devil
To be warming up the nest.
I don’t know if you are a silly bird
but you got into a long journey ...
With the farewell of the roosters
I take with me the defeated
on the back of my horse
that knows a somber trot.
And I change again the cue
to see if you find the shortcut.
Florentino
To see if you find the shortcut.
When they get involved I like it
for I also get involved.
“Vultures of ‘La Barrosa’
from ‘Alcornocal de abajo’(9):
now you will see, gentlemen,
the Devil having a hard time.”
Let him try to confuse me
I will catch him with my horse
let him try his luck,
I will see if I deal to him,
ahead the fine horse,
behind the cunning donkey.
Before the clock strikes one
he will leave as he came.
Who has seen a “doro-doro”(10)
singing with a mocking-bird!
If he changed the cue for me
I can change it back for him.
The Devil
I can change it back for him.
The bass and the treble
are the same to me.
“Ay! My Florentino”
mocking-bird and troupial,
what a long and lonely road
that you will never retrace,
in this night so black
chaparral and chaparral.
Your skill didn’t help you
nor did your singing save you.
“You who makes others forget sorrows,”
mocking-bird and troupial.
Florentino
Mocking-bird and troupial.
Vultures of “La Barrosa”
come out of “Alcornocal”
so you can see the Devil
the leap he is going to take:
Get me out of here with God
Virgin of la Soledá,
blessed Virgin del Carmen,
pious Virgin del Real,
tender Virgin del Socorro
sweet Virgin de la Paz.
Virgin de la Coromoto,
Virgin de Chiquinquirá,
pious Virgin del Valle,
blessed Niño de Atocha,
Holy Trinity,
blessed Virgin del Carmen,
Holy Trinity.(11)