Dark Gypsy voices
pierce the brooding
Andelusian night.
And their haunting,
gnarled chanting is
tearing the sorrows
from my soul.
No pain, no sadness
can withstand
these ancient laments,
blazing up in the
sun-tortured mountains
of Espana, where
outcast Gypsies,
long scorned by
sneering neighbors,
turned suffering
into ecstasy,
ashes into diamonds.
And hearing these
fierce, anguished
voices rising
triumphantly now
to the moon,
I can only rejoice
and marvel that
something so sad
can make me so happy.
Andalusian ...
Moorish civilization ...
Espana ...
There's a kind of invigorating
"wind in the sails" thing going on for me here.
I like the spirit of this piece Ben.
Blessings ...
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on September 24, 2009
Cool poem. They've traced the gypsies all the way back to India...they've certainly had a long trek. Always loved this Gypsy proverb though...sad too but makes me happy:-) “Isn't it strange? The same people who laugh at gypsy fortune tellers take economists seriously.”
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
Regis
Moorish civilization ...
Espana ...
There's a kind of invigorating
"wind in the sails" thing going on for me here.
I like the spirit of this piece Ben.
Blessings ...