Ode to Satipo [Part One/Jungle Eyes]

O Satipo, your jungle eyes—I see; Lo, your life-filled warmth opens

Upon thy brow…

Be ye, open up—your jungle gates

For me,

Before—, Before the wild comes with new

And old roars (And horrific drums form within

The deep…)!

I could feel and hear the jungle life

Within my veins,— Appeared images—within my brain.

Leafage, like peace offerings—

Silently—swayed, Upon the shoulders of its kind—; And here I stood in paradise!

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Ode to Satipo [Part Two/Peru's Abode]

Across her deep-roads of green

From rivers and valleys now

(From where I stand) unseen,— From thy heavens above, falls

Forth, (In truth and trials, and long course) To call you nobler friend, than I, Wherefore I stand, under your skies. Wherefrom I saith, 'Satipo!'—

Peru's abode—, as Precious as the Andean walls— Be ye, lift up your gates:

Jungle (beauty), For here is where stars are born!...

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Ode to Satipo [Part Three/Shades of Green]

Oh patient Satipo, in silent

Green! Complexities, triumphs

Wings like engines

(Everywhere)

And, what so way I look, Shapes and wonders: bounties

Great— That thou with loving care

Creates A thousand colors of jade Receding in your rainforest; Hence, I sense your bliss, Within

Your wildness…!

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Comments by the author: I had lived as a child in the city (St. Paul, Minnesota, United States), which I left as soon as possible, to roam the world, which I felt was really my own little city. I was amazed at the diversity of the world, its many kinds of people, traditions, customs, temples, ruins, climate, geography, animals—, and now I've been to several jungles, and of course that is in a class of its own. From Central America (Tikal), to the Amazon, to the Gran Sabana, and those jungles in Java, and South East Asia, Vietnam; and let me add, Guam, and the Galapagos (more for the animals, than jungle though); and Easter Island (again, more for its isolated location, and its people than for the jungle life); the fact

is, it is all one big jungle for me; etcetera. These poems in this book were written during a quiet time of my life (which is now of course); quiet, in the sense of: I'm slowing down some, more because I have to, not necessarily want to. So I dedicate this three part poem to the folks of the Satipo Jungle of Peru. And to a friend writer, who has written much in his young life,and loves the word, and has much to say: Lance Windslow.

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza

Dedicado a Mamá María

Oda en Prosa: A Satipo

OH, Satipo, tus ojos de la selva- yo vi; Aquí, tu calor lleno de- vida se abre sobre mi frente, aun aquí arriba en los cielos. Por favor abre Las puertas de la selva antes de que el salvaje venga con nuevos e impacientes rugidos, yo quiero ver mas; horribles tambores, yo escucho mi corazón latir, nuevamente, ¡aquí, vienen!

Yo puedo sentir y escuchar la vida de la selva dentro de mis venas, -cuando no estaba

Cerca de ella; uno puede, usted sabe, cuándo esta en ti; su imagen aparece, aun cuando no esta cerca- dentro de mi cerebro.

El follaje, como ofrenda de paz- silenciosamente yo recuerdo su -balanceo, sobre mis hombros de su amabilidad-; y aquí, aquí yo permanezco en el Paraíso!

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Una nota sobre: Mamá Maria. Ella vivió la mayor parte de su vida dentro y fuera de Satipo la selva de Perú; esto talvez fue su tercer o cuarto amor: primero Dios, ella misma su esposo e hijos, y luego la selva; yo creo que esto pudo ser en ese orden, o talvez su esposo y niños y luego ella misma, yo no se: pero lo que yo conozco es esto: si ella amo a la selva la mitad de lo mucho que yo amo escribir poesía: ella verdaderamente amo al Monumentalmente Satipo, entonces quien mas merece esta poema dedicado, yo no se si alguien mas además de ella.

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