An assignment required a poem written in the rhyming pattern of Keats "Ode to Autumn". I recalled Panamanian poet Generoso Emiliani Villamil's reflective "Otõnal" (Autumnal) sonnets and one in particular 'Del Ayer que se'. After rereading the poems I chose as subject the feelings and reflections of a person (me) in the autumn of life. When I admit to not speaking a word of Spanish my interest in Villamil's sonnets must seem strange. I tried to have the sonnets translated but no luck. In desperation, I translated word for word and endeavoured to juggle meanings as I thought they might be intended. I still don't have an absolute meaning for every word and so can't possibly have everything in context. Villamil's poem is found below and with it, despite my embarrassment, my latest translation. I realised that Villamil and myself (and everyone else) have one thing in common, that is, the passing of the hours of their lives. Because of this one common factor I tried my darndest to duplicate Villamil's first thought to honour him. I carefully used the word "our" lives in line one. Other than that, my poem, just like my life, is nothing like Villamil's nor anyone else's though we may have similar feelings. I immediately switched from 'our lives' to 'my life' as I had no further interest in Villamil when I wrote about my life. Another recollection was a 40's popular ballad, "My Old Flame" and its memorable lyrics, "My old flame, I can't even think of her name but it's funny now and then how my thoughts go flashing back again to my old flame." |
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