Wildflowers on the Dam

Caminando sobre la presa de agua
It keeps the water in the lake
It’s the strong silent type.

No dice nada
No need for words
Only strength.

Hoy ella es cubierto de flores
The flowers were not there last week
I’ve never seen them before.

Hay millones de ellos
I’ve never seen so many
I wonder where they came from?

Algunos flores son amarillo, algunos son azul
The yellow and blue complement each other
Like they belong together.

Algunos son altos otros son cortas
You can’t see the tall or short ones from a distance
Only if you walk on the dam.

Todas las flores son pequeñas
It’s their small size that keeps them invisible
Unless you are among them.

Las pequeñas flores me invitan
To visit
And bring a smile to my day.

Los Mexicanos cortan la presa cada semana
Maybe they planted the flowers
To brighten their day.

Corto algunos flores para mi esposa
She likes flowers
She will know I thought about her
And smile.


Life in Translation

Original poem by Carlos Bedoya

Dios, no me pidas paciencia.
Quizás ya todo ha muerto.
Bueno, no quise decir eso.
Ustedes saben, no hay nada que decir.
Pero digamos que es imposible
no resistir el olvido
soportar la muerte
pretender que no
sabemos algo.

As Interpreted by me


God, give me the patience not to pee.
Give me a test that all is not dead.
Good, no question to say that.
You know, I have nothing to say.
But lets dig an impossible hole
don’t resist or forget
make a party out of death
and pretend that we
know something.