The Poets Are Gathering

Por Juan Felipe Herrera
The poets are gathering

In Mexico City the poets are hollering
at this very moment.

In Beijing the poets
are publishing in a clandestine office.

In Argentina the poets
are effervescent.

In Saigon the poets are talking
talking, talking, and cafeterias.

In Chile
the poets are translating
without ivory-colored shirts.

In Uruguay the poets
are sitting under the stars playing a milonga.

In El Salvador the poets are busy
writing denuncias, denuncias.

In Nicaragua there's a tradition
of poets
Para el pueblo, para el pueblo, el pueblo libre.

En Honduras
there are lost documents
the poets are digging out.

In Colombia
the poets are making
teatro experimental en Cali.

In Granada
the poets are gathering
in la Casa de Lorca
smearing la sangre de los patos
de los puercos, de las vacas,
de Ignacio Sánchez Mejía,
on their faces.

In Madrid
the poets wear sashes
the color of blood and roses
the color of bread.

In Johannesburg
the poets have not forgotten
Biko, Biko, Biko Biko still lives.

In Sao Paulo
the poets are drumming
are drumming
are drumming
are drumming
on the streets
drumming on the roofs
drumming on the beds
drumming and the tiny rooms.

In Singapore
the poets are riding diligently

And in Alaska
the poets are staring through the darkness
through the darkness in the mid of midnight.

In Finland
the poets are writing about impossible friendship
and all its ingredients.

In Lithuania the poets,
the poets are serious about you about you,
they know you.

In Berlin
the poets are hammering
están martillando
they are hammering your walls
on paper
and all the walls all the walls
around the world.

In Tijuana
every poet is gathering
at the Centro Cultural
el Valle del Rubí
La Colonia Obrera
La Colonia Juárez
La Colonia Tenochtitlán
La Colonia Nápoles
La Colonia.

En Mc Allen, Texas
The poets are staring down la migra
staring down la migra
staring down la migra.

And the Río Grande,
Río Grande, the poets
the poets
are building piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
by piece
the Sanctuary for the People.

In Tokyo
the poets are performing with paper suits.

And the flaming tiger in Korea
the poets are quoting
Ho Kun and John Lennon.

In Morocco
the poets are reading
with Víctor Hernández Cruz
at this very minute
you got to have your tips on fire
you got to have your tips on fire
you got to have your tips on fire
you got to have your tips on fire.

In Senegal
the Sufi poets are weaving light.

And in Cairo
the poets are polling
Khaled Mattawa.

In Iran
the poets are noticing
the Grand Change.

In Missouri
the poets are alive
with Martin Luther King’s Birmingham.

Hawaii
the poet bow down to the goddess Pele
bring us your sacred water
bring us the sacred fire
let us stare down into the mouth
of your creek Isha.

In Haiti
the poets are writing plays
and everybody there is poetry.

The poets are gathering
The poets are gathering
The poets Look up the poets look up
the poets look up.

All around all around the poets.
The poets are saying
the poets are saying
everything is changing
everything is changing
everything is changing
everything is changed.

Hey
me
everybody
peace
is
you.