Monday, July 27, 2009



26 July 2009. Again gray, promising sun...

The poems of Romildo Risso, poeta gauchesco uruguayo... "y tomando quizá la forma contemplativa del hombre de campo," a phrase from the introduction by Claudio Frydman: "And taking on perhaps the contemplative form of the man of the countryside..."


Silbando piensan las aves.

Silbando piensan las aves
Yo pienso ansina también.
Naides sabe lo que dicen,
Ellas lo deben saber.
Se me hace que las ideas
Con las palabras se van.
En el sibido parece
que se alargan nada más.
Mesmo sin pensar en nada
Las horas suelo silbar...

Romildo Risso

* * *

Birds Think by Whistling

Birds think by whistling
That's how I think as well.
Nobody knows what they're saying,
but they must know.
Sometimes it happens with me
that ideas in words just go away.
By whistling it seems
they simply get a little longer.
And so in not thinking about anything
I find myself whistling the hours...

Romildo Risso (1882-1946)

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Me hace acuerdo a Riverito, sentado abajo 'el pitanguero,de bigote bien tupido,con los culo e botella en los ojos mientras miraba el cielo, chiflando entre mate y mate...