By the River We Call Bravo and They Call Grand
By the waters we call Bravo and they call Grande
we sat and wept, sat and wept, sat…
y no hubo quién nos conosolara
There on the mezquite
we hung our guitarras y guitarrones
smashed las vihuelas y las trompetas
contra las piedras del río
Los políticos y los periodistas asked us for canciones,
our tormentors demanded songs of joy
They said, “Sing us a ranchera, a narco-corrido!”
But how can we sing those songs?
Our joy has been taken from us.
Y en esta soledad, will she ever find us again?
Querida, we sing, ven a mí que estoy sufriendo
ven a mí que estoy muriendo
en esta soledad, en esta soledad
Our tongues cling to the roof of our mouths
the milk of our breast sours and dries
O Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction,
happy is the one who repays you
according to what you have done to us
Ay hija de Babilonia, bienaventurado el que tomará
y estrellará tus niños contra las piedras
*Psalm 137 is the principal intertext.
**The song “Querida” by Juan Gabriel, a Mexican singer of romantic ballads, is the other.
7 thoughts on "By the River We Call Bravo and They Call Grand"
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… like stones underneath bare feet… this one presses on the tender spots, the arches and in between the toes…. and flows…. with the melody of pain
haunting use of intertextuality, the Spanish and the Bible
I never much liked Psalm 137 but I like this.
it is not, and i don’t think ever was, a psalm to like. how do we handle the grief of of being subjected to empire’s violence and its mockery? what do we do with that anger and sorrow and hate that strips us of joy, of humanity? where is justice when the soldiers come and rip your family apart?
my prayer is always that this psalm never be a psalm for these days. that psalm be one of those antiquated psalms of a violent past. and yet, here we are. we are babylon and her daughter.
how do we pray the old prayers? when we are the condemned?
I enjoyed your piece in KENTUCKY LIVING about the Affalachian Poets and Frank X.
Your reply to Bobby was eye opening for me.
But how can we sing those songs?
Our joy has been taken from us.
Y en esta soledad, will she ever find us again?
Thanks, Jemery.