Welcome to my blog! Visit my Website at WWW.ARTBYTANYATORRES.COM to see the galleries organized by theme.

Sunday, January 31, 2016

San Germán

I am almost on my way to Puerto Rico to paint this mural in my hometown, San Germán. My word for this year is "big" so why not start with an 8" x 16" mural? I will be posting about the process in Facebook, and here, if everything goes well!

I am looking forward to the process of painting the mural and I have been assured help! It is always a little scary to do something big, but it is also exciting to be able to realize this dream.

The poem: This is the only poem I have written in a long time. I was empty of words. But I love this town, so I wrote.

Amado pueblo, a ti regreso 
cada vez quemo alma busca reposo del gran mundo. 

A veces, aquellas golondrinas que se fueron un día, 
se posan firmes  en los recuerdos inventados del destierro.  

Quien ha crecido en ti 
nunca se olvida de esas formas 
que por siempre llenan 
las proporciones íntimas de la belleza. 

Tus adoquines escondidos, 
tus túneles secretos, 
tu geografía llena de alturas, 
tus breves calles donde cada tarde 
corre el agua que limpia los recuerdos, 
cumplen con la promesa que me hiciste 
cuando me marcaste  
con ansia de belleza. 

 Esas calles vacías a mediodía, 
llenas de la historia que brilla  
en cada uno de tus muros,  
y del sol en que rade tu présente, 
son el elixir de la ausencia impuesta. 
Pueblo antiguo, pueblo mío, 
esta sed de armonía  
solo tus verdes lomas 
calman entera.  


Beloved town, to you I return,
whenever my soul seeks rest from the great world.

Sometimes, those swallows that one day left you,
perch firmly on the invented memories of exile.

Those who grew up in you
never forget those forms
that will always fill
our intimate proportions of beauty.

Your hidden cobblestones,
your secret tunnels,
your geography full of heights,
your brief streets where every evening
the water that cleans all memories flows,
they all fulfill the promise that you made me
when you marked me
with the need for beauty.  

Those empty streets at noon,
full of history that shines
in each of your walls,
and of the sun in which your present burns,
they are the elixir of imposed absence.

Old town, my town,
this thirst for harmony
only your green hills
can fully quench.

No comments: