a nutshell: translated from Guaraní, this free-flowing poem conjures a present where a demoralised god has lost belief in himself and abandoned the world
a line: “he no longer braids tight | the gleaming raiment | so that Maino’i | can fly | drizzling | the dew up | toward the firmament”
an image: Delgado exhales beautiful imagery while in the same breath mourning its decease, for instance writing of how the Father no longer scatters his seed in the middle of the earth where sweet breezes unfurl palms destined to live until the end of time
a thought: the poem ends on a deeply pessimistic note, almost dismissing a future altogether, at least dismissing any vision for it – it left me intrigued about what’s held in the rest of Delgado’s extensive oeuvre
a fact: I read this poem in Words Without Borders’ July 2020 issue The Indigenous Writing Project: Contemporary Guaraní Poetry; Paraguay is a bilingual country, where most of the population speaks Spanish and Guaraní, an indigenous language – in Guaraní, word and soul are one word: ñe’ ẽ
want to read Our Father Is Tired? visit here (also, take a look at another brilliant poem from Paraguay here)
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