I am an old-fashioned typewriter

abandoned and disabled  

but still here for memories  

fit for salon decorations from last century

and for expats and retired bourgeoisie  

for deaf musicians

and blind painters

still visible here in cold iron and heavy weight  

press my keys to hear the echoes of ghost steps in abandoned lobbies  

traces of large businessmen’s steps over a hotel carpet  

nervous dancers on wet ebony floors 

workman’s shoes in the icy cold morning  

robber's soundless footsteps

a crowd’s steps in a quiet demonstration at noontime  

feet that dance ballet

and feet of fish in pools

a soldier’s shoes at the base of a castle  

and a monk's sandals

press my thin rusty arms to hear whispers of nightmares  

creaking chains of captives in mysterious hallways  

earrings of an dead old man  

a young man's skinny dip in a clear coral reef

and cracking of chewing gum  

hammer and blacksmith’s forge  

squeaking of prison cell doors 

a sigh with which you blow out a prayer candle  

lice biting the old prisoner's head.  

crickets colliding with the street lamps  

and the slow return of the coal train from the war  

I'm the old dactylo machine that no matter how hard you press won't write anything to you today

but you'll touch and you'll hear and you'll see and you'll smell words 

stories and lives  

novels written by moonlight and candlelight and fires  

intercontinental messages between lovers and soldiers and spies  

transcripts by weary informants in isolated security compounds behind suburbs

and with the hands of undercover agents that were later cut off

and ragged dogs sleeping on sprawling blueprints

she sleeps and exhales

she sleeps and gets tired  

she sleeps and coughs  

she sleeps and sneezes

she sleeps and yawns  

she sleeps and watches over  

she sleeps and in her dreams she barks, hunting for fictitious thieves of the future

do you understand me?  

I'm that junk machine in dreary sunday sales of antique shops

in Schaerbeek  

and in Jeu de Balle

or in Matongé

a shiny machine in the light of tram #51’s lamp

and the glow of a cigarette.

made of unearthly metal

that machine still here waiting in vain

she sees and hears and feels  

but she’s paralyzed  

alive and paralyzed  

unable to testify

in front of the world’s court

One king had three daughters, whom he guarded closely as the eyes in his head. When his sinews began to weaken and his hair became flecked with white snow, it often came into his mind, which of his three daughters should be queen after his death. It was difficult for him to choose from among them, for all of them were adept and he loved them all equally. He called them before him and told them thus:

“My daughters, I am old, you see, and I do not know if I will be with you much longer. So, I want to determine which one of you will be queen after my death. Before, though, I would like to know, my girls, how much you love me. Say, eldest daughter, you first, how much do you love your father?”

“Oh, my father, you are more dear to me than gold!” replied the eldest daughter, and kissed her father’s hand.

“Well, then; and you, middle, how much do you love your father?”

“Oh, father dearest, I love you as much as my vestal innocence!” said the middle one and wound herself around her father’s neck.

“Well then; and you, youngest little daughter, how so do you love me?”

“I, daddy, love you like salt!” said Maruška and looked kindly at her father.

“Oh, you good-for-nothing, why you only think your father is worth as much as salt?” her older sisters turned and yelled.

“Yes, I love him so, like salt!” Maruška said again and looked even more lovingly at her father.

But to no avail. Her father was mightily enraged, why, his own child only valued him as much as ordinary salt, which everyone takes between their fingers and dusts around.

“Go, go from my sight!” he yelled at her, “if you don’t value me for more than salt! When such a time comes when salt is worth more than gold, only then will you ever be queen!”

Maruška could not even speak from grief, her father having refused her love so. She was used to obeying her father’s words to the letter and knew that she could no longer stay home, especially with her sisters around, so she took up her things and went away. She took off with the winds, over hills and through valleys, until she came far away to a dark forest. Here, from thin air, an old woman stood in her way.

Maruška, Maruška, tell me, where are you going and why have you been crying?

“Oh, dear grandma, why even tell you, when you cannot help me?”

“Come, young girl, just tell me your tale, perhaps you may find council with me yet. Don’t you know that gray hairs hide heads full of wisdom?”

Maruška told the old lady all her troubles and said that all she wanted was to live to see her father convinced that she loved him. The old lady knew ahead of time what Maruška would say, for she was an intelligent woman, a sorcerer. She listened to Maruška and called her immediately with her, to stay with her in her house. Maruška was glad to find someone to complain to, and gratefully followed the woman to the place where she lived in a small hut under the forest canopy. The woman gave all she had, and found for Maruška some refreshment, for she was now quite hungry and thirsty.

“And now,” said the grandma, “quickly to work. But say, do you know how to work the spindle, wind the wool, and weave? And can you graze my sheep and milk them?”

“I do not know how yet, grandma, I do not know, but I will learn, if only you will show me once,” Maruška said.

“Well, I will show it all to you, and come the right time, it will all come of good use to you.”

And so Maruška jumped to work like a bee, for though she did not yet know how things went among the poor, she quickly became accustomed. Rolled-up sleeves and a white apron looked good on her, like on a good working girl.

Meanwhile, at home, her sisters got on proudly. They petted their father ceaselessly, wound themselves around his neck and would have perhaps eaten him out of love had he not hemmed and hawed at their advances. The elder one dressed day after day in more expensive clothes and wreathed herself in gold, the middle one organized feasts and balls, both indulged whenever they wished. The father soon noted that the older daughter indeed liked gold much more than him, and as the middle one declared her intention to find a husband, he saw that with her innocence so too would her love for him wilt. For a moment, he thought of Maruška, but what? Of her there was not even a tale.

“Who cares!” he dismissed the thought of her. “After all, she only liked me as much as ordinary salt.”

 Once there was supposed to be a large feast in the castle again, for the middle one’s suitors were set to come. Then the chef came running breathlessly.

“My king,” he stammered, “disaster, great disaster!”

“What is it, have you lost your mind?” the king says.

“That, that, my king, my mind has stopped. All the salt, which we had, whether it melted, or just slipped through the cracks of the Earth, is gone, not a grain is left. What am I to salt with?”

“What a fool you are! Send for more!”

“Sure, but the same thing happened in every house, the whole land is devoid of salt!”

“Then salt with something else or cook those meals that don’t need it!” said the annoyed king, sending the chef away.

The chef thought, what the king wills, must be done, and so cooked meals without salt: first, whatever came to his mind, then, everything sweet. It was an odd feast, without salty things! And the guests slowly trickled away from the king and no new ones came. Why would they, if they couldn’t get here what even the poorest home would offer you, “bread and salt with good will.” The king was dejected, his daughters were beside themselves, where did their glory days go! Well, look, gold enough, but of salt not even one grain, though they sent for it everywhere. It was all gone!

Slowly the people lost all their appetite for food, all except for salt, just a little bit, to put on their tongue. The livestock suffered too, the cows and sheep stopped milking, for they had no salt. The people walked around in a daze and fell into illness. The king and his daughters looked like shadows, unrecognizable from sickness. It was a god’s curse on the whole country. They would have paid equal weight in gold for anyone who would have brought them even a grain of salt.

Now the king began to realize, what an important gift of god salt is, but he would have been able to bear the misery, if Maruška had not been on his conscience, and the wrong he did to her!

Meanwhile, our Maruška was doing quite well. There was no work that she would not have learned and to which she would not have gotten accustomed, she knew not about the blight. She did not know what was happening in her father’s home and country. But the wise woman knew all, and the right time for all things. Thus, one day she called to Maruška and said to her:

“My girl, why I told you, that the time will come; now yours has come, it is time you headed home.”

“Oh, my dear good grandma, how could I go home, when my father does not want me?” says Maruška and began to cry.

“Don’t cry, my girl, everything will work out well. Salt there has become more expensive than gold, you may present yourself before your father.”

And with that, the sorcerer told everything which Maruška did not yet know, and added:

“You have worked well for me, now tell me, what do you want as reward for your service?”

“Well have you directed me, well have you raised me, grandmother! For everything I simply thank you. I wish only for a bit of salt, to bring to my father as a token.”

“And you wish for nothing more? Do you not know that I can do anything for you?” asked the wise lady again.

“I wish for nothing more, just the salt!” Maruška replied.

“Well, if you value salt so much, may you never lack it,” said the sorcerer. “And I will give you nothing, but for this twig. When the wind begins to blow from the west in the afternoon, follow it, go through three valleys, over three peaks, then stop and hit the twig against the ground! Where you hit, there the earth will open, and you go inside! What you find there, all yours: it will be your finery.”

Maruška said thank you for everything, took with her the golden stick and a full carrying-sack of salt and sadly went on her way – sadly, for she had always gotten along well at the grandma’s. But she was happy, knowing that she was not saying goodbye for the last time, she told her that she would return one day, just as soon as her father accepted her back. The grandma just smiled at this and told her:

“Just stay, my girl, good and valiant, and you will do well forever. Don’t worry about me in the slightest!”

As they talked, they reached the edge of the forest. And here, as Maruška wanted to say thank you one more time, she was there no more – where she went, who knows, but Maruška was all alone. Her longing to see her father increased all the more, and she quickly made her way towards her father’s castle.

She came once more among her own, but for one, because they had not seen her for a long time, and also, because she had her hair tied up in a handkerchief, they did not recognize her, and did not want to give her an audience with the king.

“Hey, just let me through,” Maruška insisted sternly, “for I bring our lord the king a gift above gold, and a sure cure for what ails him!”

They told this to the king, and he at once ordered them to let her in. When she came to him, she requested some bread. The king ordered some be brought, but sighed deeply as he did so:

“Bread we have, but no salt!”

“What we do not have, that we could have!” said Maruška in the kind voice she used once with her father and uncovered her head.

Here the king barely did not faint from happiness as he recognized his dear Maruška. He begged her to forgive what had happened. She looked at him kindly and hugged him but kept looking intently at him. “Well then, everything good has happened!”

The word immediately got out that the king’s youngest daughter had returned and that she had brought salt. Everyone was happy at this. Maruška’s sisters were happy too, not as much of their sister but more of the salt, in the hope that at least a little would remain for them. And Maruška forgave their malice and welcomed them too with a salted slice of bread. And to everyone who came she poured off some salt from her sack. And when her father, in fear that the salt would all be spent, cautioned her to by god not give it all away, saying “slowly, slowly with the good stuff,” she always just replied:

“There is still enough, father dear!”

And yes! However much she took out, she always had enough salt for everyone, as if the small sack were bottomless.

And all the sickness left the king, as if he just shook it off. Rejoicing this, he called together the elders of the city and of the country and had Maruška named queen. Here, when Maruška was announced as queen under the wide-open sky, she felt a warm wind on her face, blowing from the west. She confided to her father everything the wise woman had told her. She followed the wind, and when she passed over three valleys and three peaks, she stopped and hit the ground with the twig. As she hit, the earth parted and Maruška stepped inside.

Instantly – she didn’t even know how she got here – she came into an immense cavern, which was all as if made of ice: the ceiling, walls, and floor, everything glistening and gleaming as if throwing off sparks. On each side were tiny tunnels, and in them ran tiny little folks with glowing lanterns who greeted Maruška:

“Welcome, welcome, queen, we have been waiting for you, our lady ordered us to lead you around everywhere and to show you everything, for it is all yours!”

They danced around her, twirling their lanterns and climbing up and down the walls fly-like, and the walls gleamed like precious stones. Maruška walked, stunned by all this beauty. The little folks led her along hallways and mine-shafts lined with icy stalactites, shining like silver. They took her to the garden, where there were red ice roses, daisies, and all kinds of miraculous flowers. The little folks took the prettiest rose and gave it to their new queen. She sniffed it, but the rose had no scent.

“Oh, what is all this?” the queen asked. “I have never seen this kind of beauty before!”

“This is all salt!” the little folks replied.

“Really? This is growing salt?” the queen replied, astounded, and thought to herself that it would be a shame to take even the smallest part of this.

The little folks guessed what she was thinking, and called to her:

“Just take, Maruška, take, however much you want, you will never exhaust it, you will never miss it again!”

Maruška thanked the little folks kindly and returned again to the surface. But the earth stayed open behind her.

When she returned home and showed her father the rose and told him everything, here the king saw, that that old grandma had outfit her daughter with more finery than he could have ever managed to.  And Maruška did not forget her either. She had the finest carriage immediately outfitted and set out with her father to find the old lady, to never let her out of their company again.

Maruška knew the way well, knew every path in the forest, but though she crossed it a hundred times, and looked every direction, there was no sign of the cottage or of the old lady. Only now did they fully realize what kind of old grandma that was and that any searching for her was in vain. They returned home. In the carrying sack there was no more salt, but Maruška knew now where the salt grew: they never grew want of it again!

Those lands in the corner

Esas tierras del rincón

I sowed them with a bow-legged ox

Las sembré con un buey pando

My yoke ring broke out

Se me reventó el barzón

And the team is always walking

Y siempre la yunta andando

When I got halfway down the land, the plow was buried

Cuando llegué a media tierra, el arado iba enterrado

It buried itself up to the hitch

Se enterró hasta la telera

The rudder came off, the yoke ring was chipping

El timón se deshojó, el barzón se iba trozando

The yoke was sagging, the sower was talking to me

El yugo se iba pandeando, el sembrador me iba hablando

I told the sower, "Don't talk to me when I'm plowing"

Yo le dije al sembrador, "no me hable cuando ande arando"

My yoke ring broke out

Se me reventó el barzón

And the team is always walking

Y siempre la yunta andando

When I finished picking, the rich man came and split it

Cuando acabe de piscar, vino el rico y lo partió

He took all my corn, didn’t even leave me any to eat

Todo mi maíz se llevó, ni pa' comer me dejó

“I present you the bill here

Te presenta aquí la cuenta

Here you owe twenty pesos from the rent of some oxen

Aquí debes veinte pesos de la renta de unos bueyes

Five pesos of agave, three pesos of some yoke ropes

Cinco pesos de magueyes, tres pesos de unas coyundas

Five pesos from an azcuna, three pesos for I don’t know what

Cinco pesos de una azcuna, tres pesos no se de qué

But everything is in the bill, along with the twenty pesos that you got from the store

Pero todo está en la cuenta, a más de los veinte reales que sacaste de la tienda

Even with all the corn you get, you can’t pay the hacienda

Con todo el maíz que te toca, no le pagas a la hacienda

Now go to work, so that you can continue paying.”

Ora vete a trabajar, pa' que sigas abonando

I just got to thinking, making a leaf cigar

Nomás me quedé pensando, haciendo un cigarro de hoja

"What a shameless patrón, he took all my corn

"¡Que patrón tan sin vergüenza, todo mi maíz se llevó

For his damn reserve!"

Para su maldita troja!"

My yoke ring broke out

Se me reventó el barzón

And the team is always walking

Y siempre la yunta andando

When I got to my house, my beloved was saying to me,

Cuando llegue a mi casita, me decía, mi prenda amada

"Where is your corn?” I replied very sad,

"¿Onta el maíz que te tocó?", le respondí yo muy triste

"The boss took it, for what I owed the hacienda

"El patrón se lo llevó, por lo que debía en la hacienda"

But the boss told me to count on the land

Pero me dijo el patrón, que contara con la tierra

Now I will go work to keep paying him

Ora voy a trabajar para seguirle abonando

Twenty pesos and ten cents, are what I still owe.”

Veinte pesos diez centavos, son los que salgo restando

My beloved told me,

Me decía mi prenda amada

"Don't work with that man, he's just stealing from us

"No trabajes con ese hombre, nomás nos está robando"

Stop with the exercises, novenas and confessions

Déjate ya de ejercicios, novenas y confesiones

Do you not see your family?

¿Que no ves a tu familia?

That he no longer has (adequate) underwear, nor do I have a skirt, nor do you have pants?

Que ya no tiene ya calzones ni yo tengo ya faldilla, ni tú tienes pantalones

You should become an agrarista

Mejor metete a agrarista

Go with the committee, let them sign you up on the list

Anda con el comité, que te apunten en la lista

Don’t you see my co-father, his brother and his son-in-law?

Que no ves a mi compadre, a su hermano y a su yerno

They’re sowing very at ease, lands that the government gave them.”

Tan sembrando muy a gusto, tierras que les dio el gobierno

My yoke ring broke out

Se me reventó el barzón

And the team is always walking

Y siempre la yunta andando

¿Margarita, te acongoja

Que el dorado soto se deshoja?

Hojas como asuntos mortales

Tus ensueños de verdor ¿inquietan tales?

¡Ay, qué el corazón se envejece

Y a la larga menos se enardece!

Mas no plañes aunque cada vez

Que andas hojarasca está bajo los pies

Y sollozarás y sabrás lo que la causa es

Porque, niña, como quieras llamarles

La pena tiene las mismas manantiales

Ni la boca ni la mente jamás han expresado

Lo que el corazón ha oído, espíritu ha descifrado

Es la plaga de nuestras horas

Es Margarita a quien lloras