Poems from The Hudson Valley

When I first asked him if we could publish a book of his poetry, he responded in his typical quiet and humble way. “It might bring some solace to people,” he said.

Hipolito Orlando Sanchez wrote his first book of poetry before he was 20, and had it printed in his homeland of Argentina. No copy of that original book survives. Hipolito is now a person nearing his eighth decade, and he has been writing poetry ever since that first small book. He moved to the United States in the late 70s, like the story of so many immigrants, looking for freedom and a new life.

I have long hoped to one day be able to help publish his poetry and, with the urging of another friend, we decided to do what we could to make it possible. And so a hope and a dream is on the way to a reality: Mayfly Media of Minneapolis will do the design, and Cafh Foundation of New York will publish it, scheduled for completion by May 2022.

One of the beautiful things about Hipolito’s poetry is that he writes each poem in Spanish as well as in English. Not too often is a poet both a writer and a translator. This book, Poems of Hope and Community, will be bilingual, and it will include photos of his community farm in the rural town of Tivoli, part of the beautiful Hudson Valley of upstate New York.

In the words of Hipolito about the upcoming book:

"So, this is the book with the poems I have written. If I ever envisioned a book, it was one printed with greasy hands in a dusty shop, hurrying to finish a job on time and rushing to the next. But even for such a rudimentary print, I have no money because I am penniless.

Now my friends have made of it a small jewel, and I am immensely grateful for it. The logo I have designed speaks of my dream: work-poetic, where dreams are forged between work with math, measuring tapes, blueprints, workbenches and keyboards.

In this spirit I keep writing. It is both an inquiry, a perennial discovery and a search. The community life I have chosen and has accepted me with the patience of a mother but the strength of a flock of worker-friends. And in this path, I am reaching old age. I see, as from the top of the hill, the years passed, and the years coming.

Our years are fraught with difficulties. Not my own years, fairly secured, so far, but the years of my world. Environment at risk, species disappearing, consumption of goods and production of trash non-stop polluting the seas. Human turmoil.

Poetry is now for me a window opened to another dimension. In that dimension I find what has been always there, a tree, a machine, herbs and flowers, drama, cars and tools and insects roaming around… but now, I can see, more often, their plea, hear their voices, and keep applying to my job. In some ways, dreaming and measuring exactly a piece of material and an exact cut, conspire with one another. There is a long way to go, much to listen and to learn, mountains of gratitude, love, and hope for the best. Time flies fast, there’s no time to lose."

"This is an emblem I’ve devised long ago. Just a rough draft. "

*****

And here is a glimpse of one of the chapters of the book, which will be divided into four parts, marking the changing seasons of the year:

Summer

Paths to the Sun

I’ve seen a bird’s nest under the stars,

And a baby sleeping on her mother’s lap.

I have summoned sadness and joy.

The one to shoulder it, the other to give.

I’ve seen roads in the plains and paths in the mountains,

Pilgrims, in a long line, walk, bordering abysses.

No one falls, when one falters another stretches a hand.

One more step, and then one more,

Towards…who will know?

This little piece of earth on which our feet stand and walk

Is rolling towards the Sun.

Senderos hacia el Sol

He visto un nido de pájaros bajo las estrellas,

Y un bebé durmiendo en el regazo de su madre.

He convocado a la tristeza y la alegría,

La una para cargarla sobre mis hombros,

La otra para darla.

He visto caminos en el llano y sendas en las montañas,

Peregrinos en una larga línea van, bordeando abismos.

Nadie cae, cuando uno tropieza otro le tiende una mano.

Un paso más, y luego otro más,

Hacia…quién sabe hacia donde!

Este pequeño trozo de tierra que pisan y andan nuestros pies

Va rodando hacia el Sol.

And here... another poem for you, again, in English and Spanish:

We are Here

Once upon a time

There was a farm

Where the kids, the youngsters and the old

Spoke without words

In “pure presence”

With the trees, the stones, the wind,

With life, with death, with the days, the seeds, the rain,

With the sheep, the buildings, the machines,

The centenarian barn, the roads,

With all and everything,

Who replied, joyful to be loved,

“We are here”.

The tulips showed their prettiest colors,

The roses hid behind their thorns,

And the green grass shone greener

Just because they saw it.

The place was called “Spiritual Community”

And it was true, was real,

“We are here”

Estamos aquí

Había una vez una granja

Donde los niños, los jóvenes y los viejos

Hablaban sin palabras

En “pura presencia”

Con los árboles, las piedras, el viento,

Con la vida, la muerte, los días, las semillas, la lluvia,

Con las ovejas, las casas, las máquinas,

El granero centenario, los caminos,

Con todo y todas las cosas,

Quienes respondían, alegres de ser queridas

“Estamos aquí”

Los tulipanes mostraban sus colores más hermosos,

Las rosas se escondían detrás de sus espinas,

Y el pasto verde brillaba más verde

Sólo porque ellos lo veían.

El lugar se llamaba “Comunidad Espiritual”

Y era cierto, era real.

“Estamos aquí”.

We hope to share more of this future book of poems in future posts here in Vocal.

Thank you!