Rarely does the city offer an alternative to chaos. It chokes our own ideas of order, by imposing its rules of roads and tunnels, of walls, fences, lines painted white and yellow on street pavement. It tempts us to barter our sweat with food to delay hunger and thirst. Our dreams are often stunted by tall buildings, while our hope for surprise faces death by routine and habit and the tick of steady clocks.
But sometimes, we stumble upon a sudden thing: a stray cat, a crooked tree, a car accident, a coin, a stranger’s smile, the beginning or end of romance. These things are brief and do not last. But they are unexpected, and so perhaps beautiful, and those who are gifted might hoard them into poems potent against the boredom of the city.
I add into my crimes as a quasi-plagiarist by translating two such poems posted by Miguel Paolo Celestial in his blog “Buraburador.” Read them here.