MPP Percy Hatfield Celebrates National Poetry Month with “Thoughts in Time of Plague” and Susana Wald’s Spanish Translation

I am so very pleased that MPP Percy Hatfield took the time on April 15, 2020 to reprint my poem, “Thoughts in Time of Plague,” on his Facebook account alongside my dear friend Susana Wald’s translation of the poem into Spanish.

Here’s a link to Hatfield’s facebook account: https://www.facebook.com/PercyHatfieldWindsor

Below, you will find a transcription and screen capture of Hatfield’s April 15th post.


In celebration of National Poetry Month, I would like to share a poem from Toronto’s Poet Laureate Al Moritz, prefaced by some words from the author. A Spanish translation follows. #nationalpoetrymonth

Percy Hatfield, Facebook, April 15, 2020

I’d like to thank and praise the people of Ontario for their poetry, the poetry of their mutual aid and their resoluteness and their many expressions of love and insight during the COVID-19 pandemic. My poem only expresses something that we all feel and know.

Al Moritz, Poet Laureate of Toronto.

Thoughts in Time of Plague

When we set out, we knew
many would die on the way.
And yet, the journey was joyous.

When we made our home we knew
many would die there. And yet we loved
that house. All the views from its windows
we named “beauty”.

When we went down the road,
the light was different every mile.
What could be behind those mute windows
with sometimes a peering eye, what pleasure
in those almost empty gardens, what unknown work
in the factories, birds in the dense wood?

When dawn came in our bedroom
or we woke too late in the old
shattered kitchen amid food scraps, empty bottles,
didn’t our memory burn deeper?—the same
old scar, flaming anew, shifting, unmoved.

And when we were trembling by the sick
that we loved and feared—so many—was it different?
Whether on the road with nowhere
to lay them down, or in the room with nowhere
else to take them… When we had to watch
the threatened breathing or leave it
to go to work. When we had to hear they had died

without us—was it different? No. No different.
Except that we saw something we always knew
in the dark. Failure was not
and success had never been
the end. The end was care.


Spanish translation by Susana Wald of Oaxaca, Mexico

Considerando los tiempos de la plaga

Al partir, sabíamos
que muchos morirían en el camino.
Aún así, el viaje fue gozoso.
Cuando tornamos de vuelta hacia la casa supimos
que muchos morirían allí. Y sin embargo amábamos
esa casa. Desde todas las ventanas
veíamos sólo vistas “bellas”.
Cuando bajamos por el camino,
la luz era distinta a cada metro.
¿Qué podía haber detrás de esas ventanas mudas
a veces con un ojo atisbando, qué placer
en esos jardines casi vacíos, qué trabajo desconocido
en las fábricas, qué aves en el denso bosque?
Cuando vino el alba en nuestro dormitorio
o amanecíamos demasiado tarde en la antigua
cocina en desorden, entre restos de comida, botellas vacías,
¿acaso nuestra memoria no quemaba más hondo? — la misma
vieja cicatriz, ardiendo de nuevo, cambiante, indiferente.
Y cuando estábamos temblando al lado de los enfermos
que amábamos y temíamos —¡tantos!—, ¿acaso era distinto?
Ya fuera en el camino buscando espacio
para depositarlos, o en el cuarto sin tener otro
lugar adonde llevarlos… Cuando tuvimos que velar
sobre su aliento jadeante o dejarlos
para irnos a trabajar. Cuando teníamos que oír que murieron
sin nosotros — ¿Acaso era distinto? No. No era distinto.
Excepto que vimos algo siempre presente
en nuestra oscuridad. El fin no fue fracasar
y nunca fue tener éxito.
El fin fue tener cuidado.



Read more about Susana Wald here.

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