The following three poems are by the contemporary Afro-Cuban poet and scriptwriter, Georgina Herrera, who has graciously given permission to share and translate her work . Author of numerous collections of poetry and radio and television scripts. I have done the English translations you see below. I’ve included a biography from Wikipedia, to give you some idea of the achievements of this great poet, who reminds me faintly of Langston Hughes.

“Georgina Herrera was born in Jovellanos, the capital of Matanzas Province, Cuba. She began writing when she was nine years old, and when she was 16 her first poems were published, in such Havana periodicals as El País and Diario de la Tarde. As Miriam DeCosta-Willis has noted, “Many of her later poems capture the pain and loneliness of her growing-up years”, during which she endured poverty, an absent father and the death of her mother when she was 14.

Aged 20, Herrera moved to Havana in 1956, and worked as a domestic; it was in the homes of her wealthy employers that she met writers, who encouraged her to publish. Early in the Cuban Revolution she became involved with the “Novación Literaria” movement, and began working as a scriptwriter at the Cuban Institute for Radio and Television.”

Wikipedia, Georgina Herrera

Esa Manera de Morir

Amor le llaman
los que a su sombra grande se tendieron.
Yo le diría:
piedra marina, donde
mi corazón de peces fue golpeado,
tierra
tremendamente dura
que le negó humedad a mis raíces.
Creo que despidió mi estrella
y la hizo errante.

This Manner of Dying

Love they call
it, those who shelter in its great shade.
I would call it:
sea stone, where my heart of fish was battered,
earth
tremendously hard
that denied water to my roots.
I think it bade farewell to my star
and made her a wanderer.

Elogio Grande Para Mi Misma

Yo soy la fugitiva
soy la que abrió las puertas
de la casa-vivienda y “cogió el monte”.
No hay trampas en las que caiga
Tiro piedras, rompo cabezas.
Oigo quejidos y maldiciones.
Río furiosamente
Y en las noches
bebo el agua de los curujeyes,
porque en ellos
puso la luna, para mí sola,
toda la gloria de su luz.

Grand Eulogy for Myself

I am the fugitive
I am she who opened doors
Of the dwelling quarters and “headed for the hills”.
There are no traps into which I fall.
I throw stones, break heads.
I hear complaints and curses.
I laugh furiously
And in the nights
I drink the water of the mangroves,
because in them,
The moon shines, for me alone,
All the glory of her light.

Autorretrato

Figura solitaria transitando
un camino inacabable
Sobre los hombros lleva
su mundo:
trinos,
sueños,
cocuyos
y tristezas.

Self Portrait

Solitary figure walking
an endless road.
On her shoulders, carries
her world:
trills,
dreams,
glow worms,
and sorrows.