Heart spotted woodpecker

Another woodpecker but smaller and much prettier. It didn’t seem to have noticed me and so was busy on a nearby branch, a pleasure to watch. This bird is uniquely shaped with heart-shaped black spots on white shoulders and broad white scapular patches and barring of flight feathers. Whitish throat and plain grey underparts. A common bird of lowland forest, they are found in pairs or groups.

What the soul is to the body, so is the artist to his people

These are the lines on the tomb of Gabriela Mistral arguably one of the greatest Latin American poet. Gabriela Mistral (1889-1957) was born in Chile. She was a village school teacher till poetry made her famous (we now clearly don’t live in a world where poetry can make people famous. On a second thought who really want to be famous in this muck. It is a disgrace to be famous). The story of a village teacher becoming a poet and later having a significant influence on reforming education system of not only Chile but even Mexico is nothing short of spectacular. Actually it doesn’t stop here!!. She was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature (1945). The citation read "for her lyric poetry which, inspired by powerful emotions, has made her name a symbol of the idealistic aspirations of the entire Latin American world". She carried within her a fusion of Basque and (American) Indian heritage. Reading Mistral is a fulfilling experience. These poems are taken from Net, frankly what I miss in Bangalore is a good library where I can stretch out to spent my afternoon lazing over some good book (just what I did in Kochi and Delhi not to forget Connemara in Chennai, need to add here Delhi does have some excellent library- it was quite an amazing experience) and read full book of poem rather than some snatches from Net. This translation of “Pine forest”

Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures,
except for the pine trees that never change:
the old wounded springs that spring
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running
from father to father.

I loved this line “if they could trees would lift you and carry you from valley to valley”. Quite evocative. This line from “Death Sonnet”

No hand will reach into the obscure depth
to argue with me over your handful of bones

This line from “Dusk”

and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle.

Mistral was unfortunate for her teen aged son suicides. This from “Sad Mother”

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest.

Sleep, sleep, and in the night
may your whispers be softer
than a leaf of grass,
or the silken fleece of lambs.

May my flesh slumber in you,
my worry, my trembling.
In you, may my eyes close
and my heart sleep.