Aguafuerte

Roy Penny is studying in Chile at Pontifical Catholic University of Valparaíso (Católica for short) in Valparaíso (Valpo) and Viña del Mar (Viña). Valpo is ~76 miles to the west of Santiago on the coast line and is a well known port throughout South America.

[Originally posted October 2, 2013]

Aqui es una historica poética que escribí.

Dos hojas bailan en el viento. Aunque es casi primavera, las hojas dejaron los platanos orientales para buscarse una a la otra. Una invitó a la otra y se pasearon entre las ramas para encontrar el ritmo. El aplauso del viento en follaje creó la música y las hojas se encontraron atrapadas en el viento. La primera vuelta finaliza con un gesto triunfal y fluye suavemente entre una luna creciente. El viento cambia y se levantan más alto, nunca se tocan, seguramente se juntaran. Partículas de tierra pasan entre las hojas, pero nunca las pierden. En el cielo, giran por un segundo, hasta bajar de nuevo. Pronto están donde empezaron, esperando a escuchar el próximo compás. Como la música es lenta, el viento y las cosas en el aire se calman. Dando volteretas de nuevo en el viento muriendo, las hojas se aproximan a la tierra y quedan juntas en el medio de la pista. Por la primera vez se tocan, unidas hasta empezar otra vez.
Así es el arte de la cueca.

In english I believe it goes something like this.

Two leaves dance in the wind. Although it is almost spring, the leaves left their oriental platanos (type of tree) to search for one another. One leaf invited the other to dance and they moved through the branches to find the rythm. The applause of the wind in the canopy created the music and the leaves found themselves trapped in it. The first spin finishes with a triumphant twirl and flows smoothly into a crescent moon. The wind changes and they are lifted higher, never touching, but certianly they will. Particles of dust fly between them, but they never lose each other. In the sky, they spin for a moment, then dive once more. Soon they are again where they started, waiting to hear the next beat. As if the music is slowing, so is the wind, and all objects within it are calm. Spinning once again in the dying wind, the leaves approach the earth then remain together in the middle of the floor. For the first time they touch, together until they start again.
This is the art of the cueca.

This is a short piece that I wrote for my creative writing class. Hope you liked it!

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