Thank you, Odilia.
I'm going to begin my reading tonight with a poem about,
and dedicated to, the island of Puerto Rico for the reasons
we've already discussed.
This poem is actually about the music of Puerto Rico.
In particular, it's about the music brought by the slaves
from West Africa with their religion, which survived
every attempt by the Spanish to stamp it out,
and is now an essential part of Puerto Rican
history, culture, and identity.
If you ever go to Puerto Rico, if you ever go to Viejo San
Juan, the old city, you'll find a street there--
and hopefully it's still there--
called San Sebastián, St. Sebastian Street,
a street famous for its music.
There's a big festival there, and all year long, you
can hear this music coming from the bars and the clubs
and the street itself.
And so much of it is music that came originally
with the slaves and their religion from West Africa.
So for me, San Sebastián, St. Sebastian Street,
is a street of miracles.
It's a street where the impossible can happen.
Even the end of war.
The return of the dead, or the survival of a people.
There's a very simple Spanish refrain here,
"en la calle San Sebastián," on St. Sebastian Street.
So I hope you can hear the music in the words,
and I hope you can hear the spirit
and resiliency of the people in these words, too.
"En la Calle San Sebastián," Viejo San Juan, Puerto Rico.
"Here at a bar on the street of the saint en la calle San
Sebastián, a dancer in white with a red red scarf en la
calle San Sebastián, calls to the gods who were freed
by slaves en la calle San Sebastián.
And his bronze face is a lantern of sweat en la calle San
Sebastián, and hands smack congas like flies in the field
en la calle San Sebastián.
And remember the beat of packing crates in la calle San
Sebastián.
From the days when overseers banished the drum en la calle
San Sebastián, and trumpets screech like parrots of gold en
la calle San Sebastián, trumpets that herald the end of the war
en la calle San Sebastián, as soldiers toss rifles
on cobblestone en la calle San Sebastián.
And the saint himself snaps an arrow in half en la calle San
Sebastián, then lost grandfathers and fathers appear
en la calle San Sebastián, fingers tugging my steel wool
beard en la calle San Sebastián, whispering your beard is gray
en la calle San Sebastián, spilling the rum across
the table en la calle San Sebastián.
Two cousins lead them away to bed en la calle San Sebastián.
And the dancer in white with a face of bronze en la calle San
Sebastián, shakes rain from his hair like the god of storms en
la calle San Sebastián, and sings with the blood that drums
in the chest en la calle San Sebastián,
and praises the blood that beats in the hands en la calle San
Sebastián, en la calle San Sebastián."