Advice to Young Poets
by Nicanor Parra Sandoval
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Youngsters,
write however you will
in your preferred style.
Too much blood flowed under the bridge
for me to believe
there’s just one acceptable path.
In poetry everything’s permitted.

Originally published by Setu

Keywords/Tags: Nicanor Parra Sandoval, translation, youngsters, young poets, blood, bridge, poetry, style, genre, method, path

Men don't look at me with passion and love.
They look at me with lust and doubtful eyes,
because of my round hips, and small shoulders,
that I inherited from my mother,
and her mother before that.
Fourteen years old, i'm no longer just a skinny girl.
And growing up all I've ever heard,
is I'm blessed to have this body, to have this face.
As if that's the only thing I've got to chase.
As if that's the only thing I've got going for me;
so I was taught that beauty is the only thing I've got.  
27 years old, my family wonders why
I've got no boyfriend,
no husband, no family of my own,
when all my sisters, when all my cousins are all married
and i'm still alone. 27 years old, i'm crying in my room.
Men always seek a pretty face but never a soul,
that's what I tell them, after being repeatedly
asked why i'm always alone.
And I refuse to give up my body,
to give up my touch, to anybody that's more attracted
to my face than my
whats inside my head.
I'm more than just an over sexualized body, I'm more
than just a pair of big eyes and a pretty face.
I'm a hard working woman, who's gained consciousness
through her soul. I'm a late night on a roof top looking at
the stars and writing about the moon.
I'm a long conversation about the universe,
sipping wine underneath a black sky.  I'm all my broken
hearts and all my wishful dreams.
I'm a woman with a heart and soul like no other. I'm
everything and I'm nothing at all, but please never just
lust and fire.


*Sandoval