Tamagotchis. (from tomodachi 'buddy'?)



    ’Telluric and magnetic

  Sincere and utterly Peruvian mechanics
those of the reddish hill!
Theoretical and practical soil!
Intelligent furrows; example: the monolith and its retinue!
Potato fields, barely fields, lucerne fields, a wonderful thing!
Cultivations which integrate an astonishing hierarchy of tools
and which integrate with wind the lowings,
the waters with their muffled antiquity!

  Quaternary maizes, with opposite birthdays,
I hear through my feet how they move aside,
I smell them return when the earth
clashes with the sky’s technique!
Abruptly molecule! Terse atom!

  Oh human fields!
Solar and nutritious absence of the sea,
and oceanic feeling for everything!
Oh climates found inside gold, ready!
Oh intellectual field of a cordillera,
with religion, with fields, with baby ducks!
Pachyderms in prose while passing
and in poetry while halting!
Rodents which look with judicial feeling all around!
Oh my life’s patriotic asses!
Vicuna, national and graceful descendant of my ape!
Oh light which is hardly a mirror away from the shadow,
which is life with a period and, with a line, dust
and that is why I revere it, climbing through the idea to my skeleton!

  Harvest in the time of the spacious pepper tree,
of the lantern hung from a human temple
and of the one taken down from the magnificent little bar!
Poultry-yard angels,
birds by a slip up of the crest!
Cavess or cavy to be eaten fried
with the wild bird pepper of the temperings!
(Condors? Fuck the condors!)
Christian logs by the grace of
a happy trunk and a competent stalk!
Family of lichens,
species in basalt formation that I
respect
from this extremely modest paper!
Four operations, I dismiss you
to save the oak and to destroy it properly!
Slopes caught in the act!
Tearful auchenia, my own souls!
Sierra of my Peru, Peru of the world,
and Peru at the base of the orb, I stick with you!
Morning stars if I aromatize you
burning coca leaves in this skull,
and zenithal ones, if I uncover,
in one hat doff, my ten temples!
Arm sowing, get down, and on foot!
Rain on the basis of noon,
under the tile roof where the indefatigable
altitude gnaws
and the turtle dove cuts her trill in three.
Rotation of modern afternoons
and delicate archaeological dawns.
Indian later than man and before him!
I understand all of it on two flutes
and I make myself understood on a quena!
As for the others, they can jerk me off!...’

--C*sar Vall*jo, Th* Compl*t* Posthumous Po*try (tr 3shl*man & Barcia, 1980)



La cultur* moy*nn*.


Auvaiyar.