A Sorian Litany

Almazan, Matute, Matamala,

Tardelcuende, Quintana Redonda,

Los Llamosos, Navalcaballo, Soria.

In an hour we will be in Soria,

With a couple of beers in a bar.

Take the road on the old stone bridge,

Leave Almazan and the Duero behind

And Matute is not far.

Take the old road with its bumps and bends,

As it winds through the pines and the open fields

That stretch to the wide sky darkening now.

There are villages too,

Though as you pass

You will not see a soul.

The men are at work on the cold brown land,

And the women invisible indoors

On this dark December afternoon.

Drive slowly, for the deer are not concerned with cars.

The woods and fields are theirs by day and night.

They cross the road just when and where they will,

Especially now in the half light.

Nine months of winter, three of hell,

But the quiet people bear it well.

We are driving into Soria now,

The town Machado made his own.

He came, taught French and married here,

Then when she died, he went away.

For him,

Lay a rose on Leonor’s grave.

Park here, and nearby there’s a bar.

In Soria there always is!

Let’s have a drink or two to warm us

This bitter evening,

And then we’ll take the old road back again

In the cold, black night and the driving rain.

Soria, Navalcaballo, Los Llamosos,

Quintana Redonda, Tardelcuende,

Matamala, Matute, Almazan.

Poem every Monday