Curaçao - Pierre A. Lauffer

Where there are rocks
As far as eyes can reach,
     Stubborn, stingy,
     That turn
     And look down
     DisdainfullyAt the pounding surf exploding,
     At their feet,
into pieces of an unbroken eulogy,
Where there are cacti
That make the tradewinds sing
     Tender songs,
     That rise
     And, erect, endure
     The passing of ages
And the sun burning ceaselessly
     On the limbs
of soil that I cherish,
Where each and every tree
howls and bows its head
     For salty winds
     And every branch
     Cries out for
     Showers of rain,
Where troupials awaken
     Man to work
With melodious voices,
Where in the wastelands
The sun watches and laughs
     At how we toil
     With donkeys
     Laboring
     With all our might
And extract from this parched earth
     Wholesome food
In blind faith,
Where my father
Taught me to be modest,
     Head upright,
     Which told me
     To look for
     An honorable life
Bread, work, tranquility
     And no more
On an island under celestial blue,
Where history
In past centuries
     Shaped harmony,
     Shining peace
     In every person
     And a part
Of heaven alighted and settled
     In our lives,
THAT’S WHERE MY HOMELAND IS:
CURAÇAO

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Pierre A. Lauffer (1920–1981) Curaçao

Translated by Aart G. Broek

Source: Callaloo, vol. 21 no. 3, 1998, p. 652-653. Project MUSE, doi:10.1353/cal.1998.0161.