“Dora Franco: A Delayed Confession” By Yevgeny Yevtushenko

1 Yevgeny Yevtushenko Dora Franco \Delayed Confession/ Translated by Yevgeny Yevtushenko with James Bachman Generally all my lyrics are confessions dressed in" rel="nofollow">in verse. Now has arrived the time for a late confession. This adventurous love poem details my younger years in" rel="nofollow">in 1968 and was written with the kin" rel="nofollow">ind permission of its heroin" rel="nofollow">ine, Dora Franco. Sometimes jealousy for the past is even stronger than jealousy for the present. Fortunately my wife Masha liked this poem and wisely approved of it, along with both of our sons—Zhenya (22 years old) and Mitya (21 years old). So this poem comes to you uncensored by my family despite my in" rel="nofollow">initial fears over the fact that it was written in" rel="nofollow">in this silver weddin" rel="nofollow">ing anniversary year of my marriage. YY 2 I. “Sometimes I was wrong, but not on purpose —sorry, I was livin" rel="nofollow">ing for the first time on this Earth. —Robert Rozhdestvensky “La vida de Evtushenko es un saco, lleno de las balas y de los besos.” “The life of Yevtushenko is a sack, stuffed with bullets and kisses.” —Gonzalo Arango (Columbian Poet), from his book, El oso y el colibri1 ……………. My dreams are tryin" rel="nofollow">ing to pick off the dry scab of a gnawin" rel="nofollow">ing-sweet old wound, it is as if Márquezian Columbia is caressin" rel="nofollow">ing my head with your, Dora Franco, almost weightless hand. Before you there was no woman as beautiful as you, even though all whom I had loved were so much better than me. But not one of them was so young and pre-historical, and not one so Indian and ideal as you, daughter of the First Fire, created by a kin" rel="nofollow">indlin" rel="nofollow">ing of wood. 1 From Arango’s book, The Bear and the Hummin" rel="nofollow">ingbird. 3 II. In Sixty Eight I was half-dead, as if suffocated by black smoke. I wanted to slap so many mugs, sometimes even my own. In Sixty Eight everythin" rel="nofollow">ing was confused, everythin" rel="nofollow">ing swept down and blown away. I had never been afraid of Big Brother’s Eye, but was afraid of my own eyes in" rel="nofollow">in the mirror. I was livin" rel="nofollow">ing a life tied up in" rel="nofollow">into a dead knot, a noose woven of three loves twisted around my neck. I had abandoned three beloveds, I didn’t kiss them enough. I didn’t love them enough. All loves are unique when the same avalanche buries them at once. I always admired love in" rel="nofollow">in one full breath, but in" rel="nofollow">in Sixty Eight I was suffocatin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in airless airs where everythin" rel="nofollow">ing was burnin" rel="nofollow">ing— in" rel="nofollow">in love and in" rel="nofollow">in politics, when you couldn’t walk on the water because even water flamed. The iron curtain" rel="nofollow">in was white hot, but I jumped through a crack in" rel="nofollow">in the fire, strippin" rel="nofollow">ing my skin" rel="nofollow">in again" rel="nofollow">inst its rusty cuticles. I was not standardized but was in" rel="nofollow">instead slanderized. Death was in" rel="nofollow">invitin" rel="nofollow">ing me from all ceilin" rel="nofollow">ings with a hook before a Nerudian hand 4 found me and pulled me to Chile where I was reborn. How did the poetry recitation with Pablo go? It was a duet of two musics— my Russian, lappin" rel="nofollow">ing like the Volga,2 mergin" rel="nofollow">ing slowly, softly in" rel="nofollow">into Spanish. Our duo-poetry was so beautiful. Camarada Allende, not yet president,3 like a student rollin" rel="nofollow">ing his R’s was repeatin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in Russian the lin" rel="nofollow">ines from my poem about hail: “V grade Charkove grad, grad… krupen, grad, kak vin" rel="nofollow">inograd” 4 In Columbia I landed like Russian grad, Russian hail, my in" rel="nofollow">invisible red flag lifted like a dangerous sail. And when I saw Bogota it was a charmin" rel="nofollow">ingly terrible cocktail mixed with the beauty and uglin" rel="nofollow">iness of angel’s smiles and scum’s swears. I was flyin" rel="nofollow">ing though Montevideo seein" rel="nofollow">ing only nasty dreams, catchin" rel="nofollow">ing with my nostrils through thousands of miles danger’s smell from my dearest Prague. 2 The Volga River is the largest river in" rel="nofollow">in Europe, flowin" rel="nofollow">ing through 11 (in" rel="nofollow">includin" rel="nofollow">ing Moscow) of Russia’s 20 largest cities. 3 Salvador Allende was a Chilean physicist and poet. In 1970 he won a close presidential election, becomin" rel="nofollow">ing the first democratically elected Marxist to be become president in" rel="nofollow">in a Latin" rel="nofollow">in America country. 4 “In the city of Karkov there is hail, hail, hailstones as large as grapes.” These lin" rel="nofollow">ines are from Yevtushenko’s poem “Hail in" rel="nofollow">in Kharkov.” 5 We, idealists, are doomed to be deeply frustrated, seein" rel="nofollow">ing cynics cut our globe in" rel="nofollow">into slices with their sleazy, sharkish missiles wrapped in" rel="nofollow">in speeches for peace. I mistrust gurus from all extremes, our curly ideals life cruelly trims. I mistrust the haughty power of glamour. I am afraid of the in" rel="nofollow">incautious power of the poor because poverty’s pockets have holes through which bombs angrily roll and explode poor and rich. We are tired of trust. Any future “isms”— any selfish capitalisms, any fake socialisms— they are not roads ahead, but convulsive schisms which couldn’t gain" rel="nofollow">in even one lonely heart without love. Love is the only superpower that is above! Nadaists are somethin" rel="nofollow">ing like Nothin" rel="nofollow">ingists and Gonzalo was chief of their poet’s tribe. At the airport he whispered to me, “I have a gift for you…with most beautiful eyes.” I thought—this sounds a bit like a trap. “Has it a name, this gift?” very carefully I asked. “Dora Franco. You were born for each other. You’ll see.” I disliked bein" rel="nofollow">ing pushed in" rel="nofollow">into any hands. Many years ago in" rel="nofollow">in Paris I sneaked away from some young matchmakers who were tryin" rel="nofollow">ing to couple me with the freshly divorced Brigitte Bardot. 6 They were new leftists from the glamour mag Clarté, schemin" rel="nofollow">ing their next great story. Through the press I guessed both of our fin" rel="nofollow">ingers were very bored by that time, havin" rel="nofollow">ing just taken off our rin" rel="nofollow">ings not long ago. Were it not for the laughin" rel="nofollow">ing of the whole world I would have given up verses to wear a collar myself and guide on the leash until my death her numerous dogs, cats, and even one mongoose. Let’s come back to those Columbian palms, where I found myself a poet among the Nadaist tribe. We performed a ticketless readin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the park. T-shirts with Che surrounded us like red poppies. Gonzalo and I performed as two different species, me the heavy Siberian bear with a weightless colibri. In the begin" rel="nofollow">innin" rel="nofollow">ing everythin" rel="nofollow">ing was quiet like a church, but almost immediately that order was blown up. “Dora Franco has arrived! Dora Franco!” Then an avalanche of young voices thundered: “Viva la rein" rel="nofollow">ina! Long live the queen!” But their joy was mixed with poisoned whistles. Someone used a very old method of transformin" rel="nofollow">ing a question in" rel="nofollow">into spite: “Dora, how much did your sponsor give you for your golden stockin" rel="nofollow">ings?” From on stage I didn’t see legs or stockin" rel="nofollow">ings or any other priceless details. I was catchin" rel="nofollow">ing her face in" rel="nofollow">in pieces— lobes pulled down by heavy earrin" rel="nofollow">ings, 7 little magic corners of eyes and lips— before all assembled in" rel="nofollow">into her face. Very swanlike her hand tamed the crowd, and not less than hundreds of Che Guevaras applauded, whistled, and jumped from t-shirts on our swayin" rel="nofollow">ing globe. My blood began its crazy gallop in" rel="nofollow">in my vein" rel="nofollow">ins when the nipples of Columbian girls, sharp as pencils, began pushin" rel="nofollow">ing Che Guevara portraits from their breasts, in" rel="nofollow">invitin" rel="nofollow">ing him for a dance. What happened after this readin" rel="nofollow">ing? Everythin" rel="nofollow">ing conjured in" rel="nofollow">in a Márquez story. I entered a charmin" rel="nofollow">ing, collapsin" rel="nofollow">ing tavern which I am sure could write an in" rel="nofollow">incredible diary. Though all applauses had left by this time, I felt on me somebody’s gaze— but it was not Márquez. That evenin" rel="nofollow">ing was very silent, and yet I heard somethin" rel="nofollow">ing tender like an angels’ chorus over my head. They were sin" rel="nofollow">ingin" rel="nofollow">ing without words but the music didn’t need them. I saw in" rel="nofollow">in the depths of the tavern a revolvin" rel="nofollow">ing green propeller of emerald parsley and a most beautiful tease. She was a very young woman surrounded by five men with an additional five Che Guevaras on their t-shirts. In her long black hair there was a livin" rel="nofollow">ing-white lily. Men were toastin" rel="nofollow">ing her but she did not hear them, 8 she was pullin" rel="nofollow">ing me in" rel="nofollow">into the black abyss of her eyes. I was movin" rel="nofollow">ing, hypnotized toward the green propeller. She was grin" rel="nofollow">indin" rel="nofollow">ing parsley in" rel="nofollow">in her teeth and her eyes became bigger and bigger as I kissed the green tail of parsley and began to grin" rel="nofollow">ind it too, movin" rel="nofollow">ing closer and closer to the half open grotto of her lips. It was all a childish game and as I contin" rel="nofollow">inued to grin" rel="nofollow">ind the parsley I fin" rel="nofollow">inally reached over the bitter herb, as if approachin" rel="nofollow">ing a very small temple, her sweetly humid, bald lips. It was risky because all five men plus five Ches stood tensely stunned. But I didn’t stop and dived with my eyes in" rel="nofollow">into that black abyss of her two, full of frightenin" rel="nofollow">ing, tremblin" rel="nofollow">ing temptation I sensed no refusal in" rel="nofollow">in her eyes, only a wordless command: “Dive in" rel="nofollow">in.” And I did. It was amazin" rel="nofollow">ing that I was not killed, but all five men plus the five Guevaras were so overwhelmed that they politely dematerialized. When I woke up the next mornin" rel="nofollow">ing together with her she was sleepin" rel="nofollow">ing like a little baby in" rel="nofollow">in the cradle or on a tin" rel="nofollow">iny boat floatin" rel="nofollow">ing nowhere with its name on the side: All-In. Even love with a foreigner couldn’t be foreign. 9 I asked her, “What is your name?” “Dora Franco,” she replied. We loved each other three days and three nights. I was she. She was me. In our crazy purity all the sophistications of Karma Sutra looked naive. My body wanted her body so much that it became like a soul in" rel="nofollow">in flesh, fallin" rel="nofollow">ing down broken in" rel="nofollow">in two at the bottom of both of her eyes. On the first day, walkin" rel="nofollow">ing barefoot to the bathroom I opened the door without knockin" rel="nofollow">ing to see Dora shavin" rel="nofollow">ing light golden hair off her leg, gracefully puttin" rel="nofollow">ing it on the edge of the bath. Her leg was in" rel="nofollow">invitin" rel="nofollow">ingly smooth but her antique straight razor, though retractable, was quite dangerous when opened. Dora looked at me, blushin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in shame and horror, not havin" rel="nofollow">ing time to cover her breasts. With a scream she tried to cut the tin" rel="nofollow">iny branches of her vein" rel="nofollow">ins. Poor girl, she was ready to cut the tin" rel="nofollow">iny branches of her vein" rel="nofollow">ins! Happily, I took the straight razor from her hands. I opened her lips with my lips as she was murmurin" rel="nofollow">ing a prayer— if I could only not unlove her forever. Afterwards we were splashin" rel="nofollow">ing water 10 over the narrow tub where we joyfully soared in" rel="nofollow">into heaven in" rel="nofollow">in foam and tears. We both became babies in" rel="nofollow">in a baptismal font, feelin" rel="nofollow">ing the angels flyin" rel="nofollow">ing around us, dryin" rel="nofollow">ing us with their flutterin" rel="nofollow">ing win" rel="nofollow">ings. We loved each other freely and equally, as if we were born in" rel="nofollow">into a world with neither amenity nor wars. Everythin" rel="nofollow">ing happened as predicted by Gonzalo: “You were born for each other.” 11 III. To hell with all drug cartels, all wars with narco barons. Now the most important event in" rel="nofollow">in the world was that the left shoe of Dora had unfaithfully escaped and must be found and punished. We already found the right shoe, which was the more obedient of the siblin" rel="nofollow">ings. It had found itself and cunnin" rel="nofollow">ingly teased us, while the left shoe took an illegal holiday. I was tellin" rel="nofollow">ing Dora’s right shoe, as if talkin" rel="nofollow">ing to a small child, “Why are you not searchin" rel="nofollow">ing for her? Help me fin" rel="nofollow">ind your runaway sister. Otherwise I will throw even you in" rel="nofollow">into the ocean.” Shakin" rel="nofollow">ing the right shoe, holdin" rel="nofollow">ing it by a little strap, I shoved it in" rel="nofollow">into the scent of her left sister. Heavy with wet, heavy sand, the right shoe fulfilled its task. For understandin" rel="nofollow">ing my order I kissed her black wet nose like a faithful, little dog. Even after I kissed you Dora, again" rel="nofollow">in with two shoes in" rel="nofollow">in your little hands, I could not save myself and cut the Gordian knot taut with all of my ex-passions. What can I do with each priceless one, when each is so dissimilar from the others? I am just a lonely, sufferin" rel="nofollow">ing sin" rel="nofollow">inner before a universe of so many eyes, 12 each the most beloved and dearest. What about God? I doubt he will be on my side, he would only sigh and scratch the back of his head, but he knows, this old cunnin" rel="nofollow">ing matchmaker, that in" rel="nofollow">in the city of Petrozavodsk my destin" rel="nofollow">iny was already goin" rel="nofollow">ing to kin" rel="nofollow">indergarten.5 5 A reference to Yevgeny Yevtushenko’s 1986 film, Kin" rel="nofollow">indergarten. 13 IV Forgive me Masha, my yet unknown Masha, for the planet at that time was not yet ours. It seems that Invisible Márquez, like another cunnin" rel="nofollow">ing conspirator, had guided Dora and me in" rel="nofollow">into Ciudad Barranquilla. Here some years ago the future genius walked barefoot without his own mother and father, guided only by his abuelo, who was the sole caretaker of his little rebel grandson Gabbito— who at that time played hooky with eternity yet on guard with him. In Barranquilla no less than half the population in" rel="nofollow">introduced themselves as close relatives of Márquez. They were stuffin" rel="nofollow">ing my ears with nonstop memoirs and their Márquez-o-mania was more joyful than our own borin" rel="nofollow">ing Marx-o-mania. Accordin" rel="nofollow">ing to them, they were not created by that Midas of Spanish but it was they who created him. Like Ancient Romans entreatin" rel="nofollow">ing their foreign guests to the Coliseum, they in" rel="nofollow">invited me to the famous Columbian cockfights. Who were the patricians of these cockfights? Very decent crooks who deserved to be hung on only the very best masts, 14 and whose favorite hobby is to scream peck peck peck. sharper sharper sharper. They don’t notice how they themselves pecked the air with noses as if they had become clones of the fightin" rel="nofollow">ing cocks peckin" rel="nofollow">ing sharper sharper sharper. The more dubious beauties waved their pain" rel="nofollow">inted fans, blowin" rel="nofollow">ing their nostrils while enjoyin" rel="nofollow">ing the blood, squeakin" rel="nofollow">ing and moanin" rel="nofollow">ing as if they were makin" rel="nofollow">ing love sharper sharper sharper. Not only poets again" rel="nofollow">inst poets, competin" rel="nofollow">ing for the Nobel Prize, not only womanizers competin" rel="nofollow">ing for their braggart’s sin" rel="nofollow">ins, not only politicians competin" rel="nofollow">ing for their ambitions, not only busin" rel="nofollow">iness jackals dealin" rel="nofollow">ing each other in" rel="nofollow">into shackles, even some crazy mothers were in" rel="nofollow">incited again" rel="nofollow">inst each other, for money, power and laurels, in" rel="nofollow">incite all like cocks in" rel="nofollow">in quarrels. But the feathers of cocks are so beautiful 15 in" rel="nofollow">in the sunrise and in" rel="nofollow">in the sunset. In antique times, Grecian warriors in" rel="nofollow">installed iron combs on the helmets they would take in" rel="nofollow">into battle. How are you my rooster, with your baroquean comb, with your silky little beard battered by mornin" rel="nofollow">ing dew? You lived near your baby brother in" rel="nofollow">in the same private shell where you didn’t notice any threats in" rel="nofollow">in his puffy, yellow visage. Were you born a killer? Have you been hatched out to peck your brother to death? Where is the brother’s kiss of your tender beaks? You should embrace each other with your win" rel="nofollow">ings, but from all sides of this dirty tavern the mob screams to in" rel="nofollow">incite you both: Peck. Peck. Peck. Precisely in" rel="nofollow">in this manner the howl of the same pack in" rel="nofollow">incited me again" rel="nofollow">inst my would-be brother poet Joseph,6 with bets placed on all sides of the quarrel. Who are you, droppers of poison in" rel="nofollow">in our ears? He is now dead and I almost as well but I hold out hope that by the mercy of God 6 Russian poet and essayist Joseph Brodsky. 16 we will make peace in" rel="nofollow">in the sky above. All wars will evaporate, life will be reborn, if in" rel="nofollow">inside of ourselves droppers of poison are erased. Is it so hopeless to dream that there could be a different world where people don’t envy each other, bein" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the service of death for the glory of a Nobel Prize check, under the screams of the world’s sleazy market: “Peck. Peck. Peck.” There are more evil deeds than there are evil people. So many of the in" rel="nofollow">innocent were almost in" rel="nofollow">innocently killed. Most crimes are not made on purpose. Even though many wars and revolutions have ground us like pestle in" rel="nofollow">in mortar, we so-called human bein" rel="nofollow">ings contin" rel="nofollow">inue to peck each other, welcomin" rel="nofollow">ing the poison in" rel="nofollow">in our ears until we become enemies like stupid roosters in" rel="nofollow">in a cockfight, train" rel="nofollow">ined and in" rel="nofollow">incited for hatred, never to recover from the teasin" rel="nofollow">ing, sweet taste of blood. All multi-colored combs from all world democracies are proudly cockish. 17 The squabbles of all politicians again" rel="nofollow">inst each other become so dirty. For them it is too easy to spit, throwin" rel="nofollow">ing from their bloody beaks unexpected red foam on the bettin" rel="nofollow">ing table. It is impossible to escape anywhere, impossible to be deserters because everywhere there is a dictator’s regime made of peacockin" rel="nofollow">ing male bravura or the squeak of agitated hens. Down your proud combs poor, stupid cockfighters. It was a quiet night in" rel="nofollow">in Baranquilla with feathers and broken win" rel="nofollow">ings on the little coliseum floor. Dora caressed one wounded rooster, washin" rel="nofollow">ing away the blood from his head, with only one survivin" rel="nofollow">ing, alive eye… She bought him only for a pair of her earrin" rel="nofollow">ings. “Tell me about Russia,” Dora whispered in" rel="nofollow">into the darkness. “It is like your village Macondo, 7 only a little bit bigger.” “But Macondo doesn’t exist— it is just written by Márquez..” 7 Macondo is a fictional town described by Gabriel García Márquez’s novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967). 18 “Dora, sometimes it seems to me that Russia exists only as it is written by Puhskin" rel="nofollow">in, Tolstoy, Chekhov, and others.” “Eugenio, I heard that Márquez once visited Russia.” “Yes, and I hosted him.” “How was it?” 19 V When Márquez came to Russia for the first time, I brought him to Peredelkin" rel="nofollow">ino Village, where I lived. The great Columbian was a pretty prickly leftist, but in" rel="nofollow">in a distin" rel="nofollow">inctively South American style. When I mentioned Pasternak’s tomb was on our way, a strange grin" rel="nofollow">in took shape on the Columbian’s face. I didn’t see in" rel="nofollow">in this reaction anythin" rel="nofollow">ing abnormal, besides, Márquez was born in" rel="nofollow">in the country of cartels, where everybody who lived under the “United Fruit”8 knew how sweetly handcuffs rubbed your wrists. I carefully suggested that we visit the tomb of Pasternak. My guest hesitated before forcin" rel="nofollow">ing himself to say, hidin" rel="nofollow">ing not hatred but clearly unfriendly feelin" rel="nofollow">ings, that Pasternak was joyfully consumed by imperialist pen pushers, who were too happy with his novel like a dog with a sugar bone. For Márquez all of the scandal about the novel was just a shame sin" rel="nofollow">ince writers couldn’t control the use their names in" rel="nofollow">in such a dogfight. I admired Marquez, but not like an idol, and I refused to rat out my Pasternak, “He didn’t hide Dr. Zhivago like a knife in" rel="nofollow">in his boot.” He knew that ‘the root of beauty is courage.’ 8 The United Fruit Company was an American corporation that was accused in" rel="nofollow">in the 1960s of exploitin" rel="nofollow">ing South American labor. 20 He put pure love above dirty politics. He put pure love again" rel="nofollow">inst that sleazy whore— political correctness. I couldn’t believe that for you, my dear beloved writer, that the dogfight of Montagues and Capuletts could be more important than love?” Did Pasternak really in" rel="nofollow">incite scandal with his in" rel="nofollow">innocent novel? When western capitalism with Russian feudalism began to beat each other with his novel like it was a baseball bat, Pasternak’s fragile vertebra broke down. My dear beloved writer, there are no writers in" rel="nofollow">in the world whom bastards from both sides don’t try to use, but this is not the blame of us writers, it is our tragedy. “Shall I make the turn to Pasternak’s tomb or follow straight?” “To the cemetery,” said Marquez. He shut up the provin" rel="nofollow">incial journalist in" rel="nofollow">inside him. Inside of him woke the Writer. He walked very carefully when we entered the cemetery, as if sensitive piano keys were under his feet. 21 Many years ago my father told me, “Remember how people walk in" rel="nofollow">in cemeteries. It will tell you who they realy are.” Defilin" rel="nofollow">ing his hands with fresh golden pain" rel="nofollow">int from the metal fences surroundin" rel="nofollow">ing the cemetery, that Midas of prose walked on top toes. Márquez was snifflin" rel="nofollow">ing as quietly as possible when we stopped at before the tomb. He looked at the tender profile of Pasternak engraved on the cold, hard stone. His lips quivered almost imperceptibly, “How clean everythin" rel="nofollow">ing is around this tomb.” Afterwards, I began to thin" rel="nofollow">ink that all countries in" rel="nofollow">in the world as described by their great writers are even more real, my dear Dora, than even reality itself. 22 VI. I was remin" rel="nofollow">inded of lessons I learned in" rel="nofollow">in school when the “almighty they” reluctantly permitted me to visit seductively dangerous pastures abroad. Accordin" rel="nofollow">ing to my lessons as I recalled them, the favorite food of those capitalist crocodiles livin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the foreign waters of Crocodilia was the disobedient swimmers who had floated too far from their communist schools. Any patriotic Soviet citizen adrift in" rel="nofollow">in these currents would be swallowed by the capitalist crocodiles stalkin" rel="nofollow">ing and lurkin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the murky depths. Such in" rel="nofollow">inculcations leave teeth marks of their own even on the most adventurous of souls. I said to Dora, “Listen to me cautiously. We are a very special country. If our Big Brother eye found naked photos of Soviet male citizens enjoyin" rel="nofollow">ing too much the company of foreign females there is a very an ancient custom sin" rel="nofollow">ince the times of Ivan the Terrible. Do you know what they do, Dora? They cut offenders’ heads off early in" rel="nofollow">in the mornin" rel="nofollow">ing on Red Square. But even before the beheadin" rel="nofollow">ing, they will castrate them on that same square.” Dora exclaimed as if somethin" rel="nofollow">ing was suffocatin" rel="nofollow">ing her: “You are like a brother to me, but this is a most uncivilized execution because it is impossible to hear together 23 the words: ‘poet’ and ‘castrate.’” Even as I pain" rel="nofollow">inted this parodic picture for Dora there was nostalgia for my dearest motherland. I had butterflies in" rel="nofollow">in my stomach, but not tropical ones. I underestimated Dora’s sentimentality, for she took my allegory too seriously. When the first photo-reporter put his snotty nose between us with a sticky in" rel="nofollow">intimate question, Dora gracefully and frightfully kicked him in" rel="nofollow">in the most sensitive place with her poin" rel="nofollow">inted shoe, sharp like a D’Artagnan sword,9 and forced him to pull from his Nikon the negatives that had captured us embracin" rel="nofollow">ing. But he was only her first victim. She smashed so many lenses from other cameras that our zig-zaggin" rel="nofollow">ing journey could be traced by the shards of so many Kodaks, Hasselblads, and Leicas10 broken by her in" rel="nofollow">into smithereens. If Judgment Day does come I hope God will count this defense of poetry in" rel="nofollow">in favor of Dora, for she saved a potential victim from the from the in" rel="nofollow">intrusive eye of the paparazzi. Even when one policemen was in" rel="nofollow">invited to stop this long legged hurricane with lightnin" rel="nofollow">ing jumpin" rel="nofollow">ing from her blackcurrant eyes, in" rel="nofollow">instead of puttin" rel="nofollow">ing her in" rel="nofollow">in handcuffs 9 D’ Artagnan is the main" rel="nofollow">in protagonist in" rel="nofollow">in The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas. 10 All of these were popular camera brands. 24 for destroyin" rel="nofollow">ing an entire photo in" rel="nofollow">industry he in" rel="nofollow">invited her for a tango. How beautiful they were whirlin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in tango! He as a giant buffalo was bendin" rel="nofollow">ing her waist as if she were liana and the stars in" rel="nofollow">in the sky were flyin" rel="nofollow">ing over their heads like serpentin" rel="nofollow">ine on improvised fiesta. Babies with naked bottoms were sin" rel="nofollow">ingin" rel="nofollow">ing, and palms were clin" rel="nofollow">ingin" rel="nofollow">ing like posts in" rel="nofollow">in a soccer game, tremblin" rel="nofollow">ing from a strike by Pele and swayin" rel="nofollow">ing In tango. In tango. In tango. The old palms of wrin" rel="nofollow">inkled jungle clairvoyants could see everythin" rel="nofollow">ing on earth even without eyes, seein" rel="nofollow">ing all of us from Lake Baikal to the Amazon River, but even they missed in" rel="nofollow">in the pre-mornin" rel="nofollow">ing dark the ghostly tanks closin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in on dissident Prague. But anyone who loves is also a kin" rel="nofollow">ind of clairvoyant capable of predictin" rel="nofollow">ing for their beloved dangers hidden in" rel="nofollow">in the shadows before they appear. I was the one who was happily blin" rel="nofollow">ind. How did Dora fin" rel="nofollow">ind the magician’s wisdom to predict with this maternal in" rel="nofollow">instin" rel="nofollow">inct that somethin" rel="nofollow">ing terrible was waitin" rel="nofollow">ing for me? Where else could you fin" rel="nofollow">ind such kin" rel="nofollow">ind witches as those here in" rel="nofollow">in the Amazonas, who are able with sharp, charmin" rel="nofollow">ing shoes to hit photographers in" rel="nofollow">in the most pain" rel="nofollow">inful area and then afterwards dance an immortal tango with a policeman who should otherwise put her behin" rel="nofollow">ind bars? 25 After her dance with the policeman, some happily unruly guys from the Peace Corps flooded the village Leticia, passin" rel="nofollow">ing beside my Dora. One of them was a nice but impossible braggart. He in" rel="nofollow">introduced himself as Vonnegut and I smiled askin" rel="nofollow">ing him, “Are you Kurt?” He replied, “No, that’s my father.” I understood it as nonsense because he looked at Dora as if she sin" rel="nofollow">ince her birth date belonged to him. I laughed: “Stop boastin" rel="nofollow">ing pal. That is the same as me sayin" rel="nofollow">ing I am Gagarin" rel="nofollow">in, and that my father’s name is Yuri.” I concluded: “Listen, leave my Dora in" rel="nofollow">in peace.” He answered: “Is she your property?” Bein" rel="nofollow">ing very drunk, full of tequila, we immediately grappled and began wrestlin" rel="nofollow">ing to the tease of piranhas lookin" rel="nofollow">ing at us from the water. Of course I as a Socialist-idealist was always for brotherhood, but with all poets to duel with a rival for a woman is a sacred and necessary ritual. We contin" rel="nofollow">inued in" rel="nofollow">incited by our tequila until Dora, outraged and laughin" rel="nofollow">ing, 26 splashed us with stin" rel="nofollow">inky leftovers from a friendly somebody’s bucket. She hammered our heads with her fists, then washed us with almost boilin" rel="nofollow">ing water. Now we became very peaceful, like two exemplary members of the Peace Corps. Each of our countries would have been proud of us. My rival, diggin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">into his pockets, proudly took out his driver’s license where was written to my surprise: “Mark Vonnegut.” He said, with a little bit of childish pride, “We Vonneguts don’t lie.” We clin" rel="nofollow">inked our glasses in" rel="nofollow">in celebration. The Amazon River transformed itself in" rel="nofollow">in that moment in" rel="nofollow">into the River Elbe— that tin" rel="nofollow">iny German river where in" rel="nofollow">in May of 1945 Russian and American soldiers embraced each other, drin" rel="nofollow">inkin" rel="nofollow">ing whiskey and vodka, not foreseein" rel="nofollow">ing ahead of them a new war—a cold one. Oh great Dora Franco, South American fairytale in" rel="nofollow">in flesh, when we have quarrels and wars we need such Joans of Arcs for peace among everybody’s poin" rel="nofollow">intless scufflin" rel="nofollow">ing, not yet satiated with blood and the climbin" rel="nofollow">ing over dead bodies to the peaks of power everywhere. Let pass between them 27 like a livin" rel="nofollow">ing olive tree, my Dora Franco, who will piteously trample in" rel="nofollow">into smithereens all stupid ambitions with only her left, poin" rel="nofollow">inted shoe sniffin" rel="nofollow">ing for her lost right one. Let her take all the dirty negatives from the cameras of all shameless paparazzi. 28 VII My priceless friend, childishly shy rebel, Gonzalo Arrango, you snuffed all quarrels around you, condoled all grievances around you, but how could we condole you in" rel="nofollow">in the same way you did us? Condolence is a rare talent, no less rare than bein" rel="nofollow">ing a poet. What can I do to keep your life from fadin" rel="nofollow">ing, to make your afterdeath a new life? I am roarin" rel="nofollow">ing to you Gonzalo as a Siberian bear. Keep goin" rel="nofollow">ing my little colibri, make your graceful circles! You were a great Nadaist, everybody’s savior, but you didn’t save yourself, even when you were writin" rel="nofollow">ing your poetry on the South American sky with a colibri quill. Without Pablo and you even pain" rel="nofollow">in is more pain" rel="nofollow">inful. Without Pasternak and you even sadness is sadder. There is no Bulat. There is no Andrey. Bella is dead— my first wife, Tsarin" rel="nofollow">ina of Russian verse.11 So who can be the Muse on our Earth, when my hermano Arrango has cruelly left me, 11 Bulat Okudzjava was a famous poet, sin" rel="nofollow">inger and composer. Andrey Voznesensky was also a famous poet of the 60’s generation. Bella Akhmadulin" rel="nofollow">ina was one of the great poets followin" rel="nofollow">ing the tradition of Anna Akhmatova and Marin" rel="nofollow">ina Tsevaeva. 29 when on my table even blank paper pain" rel="nofollow">ins like an open wound where everybody’s pain" rel="nofollow">ins embrace? “Nothin" rel="nofollow">ing serious” some observers will coolly comment, hidin" rel="nofollow">ing with their palms their yearnin" rel="nofollow">ings. There are so many “nothin" rel="nofollow">ingists” in" rel="nofollow">in this world that I in" rel="nofollow">involuntarily value a little “somethin" rel="nofollow">ing.” It is better to call yourself “nothin" rel="nofollow">ingists” than to be thin" rel="nofollow">inkin" rel="nofollow">ing nothin" rel="nofollow">ing, but the sky will see everythin" rel="nofollow">ing with the eye of God and will not forgive nothin" rel="nofollow">ing and nobody. 30 VIII Dora, Leticia brought us closer like a brother and sister among the crocodile hunters, who surprisin" rel="nofollow">ingly loved their prey, even in" rel="nofollow">in killin" rel="nofollow">ing them to sell their skin" rel="nofollow">in for shoes, purses, and portfolios, Leticia—forgotten orphan of the twentieth century, was a surprisin" rel="nofollow">ing place where I didn’t meet one evil bein" rel="nofollow">ing. I found here some books, and among them Doctor Zhivago. Inside the library there was a charmin" rel="nofollow">ing hunchback librarian, whose name was Virgilio Diaz (Vergil in" rel="nofollow">in English). His face was childishly proud as he showed me his treasures. On his shelves were Señores Dante, Cervantes, and Twain" rel="nofollow">in, and to my joy my own campañero Neruda, for whose 60th anniversary an exhibition was made here by his adorin" rel="nofollow">ing fans among the crocodile hunters. “I’m probably the first Russian in" rel="nofollow">in Leticia?” I asked him. “The Russians truly are rare birds over here, but sometimes they fly to visit us, Don Eugenio. Probably it will in" rel="nofollow">inspire you that not long ago we had a special Russian guest—Smirnov. He was a joyful pal, who could with a skillful hand kill many mosquitoes on his cheeks.” “Which Smirnov?” I in" rel="nofollow">interrupted. “Sergio. Father’s name was more difficult—Serhevic. We do not have any of his books, 31 but he left a few words— like signs of his future in" rel="nofollow">intentions— on a book of Pasternak’s.” I was shocked when I opened Doctor Zhivago and saw the autograph and to my surprise his words were pompously kin" rel="nofollow">ind. Somethin" rel="nofollow">ing like— “On behalf of the Soviet writers of Moscow, I am very happy to see here our classic book, Viva Leticia!” My Virgilio, who didn’t know the details of our Soviet hell, mumblin" rel="nofollow">ing, asked me, “Don Eugenio, I see you are very uneasy readin" rel="nofollow">ing this autograph. Why?” “He saved many heroes of war from Stalin" rel="nofollow">in’s prisons,” I answered him with shame and sadness, “afterwards he was chairman of the meetin" rel="nofollow">ing where Pasternak was expelled from the Writer’s Union.” Virgilio answered frustrated and confidently: “As a bibliophile I now understand that such a book is priceless.” 32 IX So Mother Russia on the shores of the Amazon River had caught me with my zig-zaggin" rel="nofollow">ing trace, and I once again" rel="nofollow">in felt myself in" rel="nofollow">inside her like in" rel="nofollow">inside a Gulag zone, behin" rel="nofollow">ind barbed-wire where there are no exits for me. And I didn’t want to escape. My roots are here. Oh Russia, everywhere on the globe is a place for our unexpected dates. This is the zone of my sufferin" rel="nofollow">ings. This is the zone of my love. But why does she torture me so much with so many whys? Our past teaches us poorly— we must learn from the future. That Smirnov permitted himself to be a tool of evil, not bein" rel="nofollow">ing a coward in" rel="nofollow">in the war, he was deadly scared in" rel="nofollow">in peace, and probably in" rel="nofollow">in leavin" rel="nofollow">ing that dedication he was sin" rel="nofollow">incere to his secret depths. Why then did he stoop to crimin" rel="nofollow">inal cruelty? This is the same man who had saved, some years before, our soldiers captured by the Germans whom Stalin" rel="nofollow">in suspected as traitors. Why, if he repented in" rel="nofollow">in the jungles of the Amazon after betrayin" rel="nofollow">ing Pasternak, did he again" rel="nofollow">in betray another poet (our dearest Bulat)? Who in" rel="nofollow">invented such a tragedy of betrayal? Even Shakespeare would be amateurish describin" rel="nofollow">ing it. There is somethin" rel="nofollow">ing devilish in" rel="nofollow">in such temptation. With our readin" rel="nofollow">iness to betray 33 our conscience will never be saved. “Did you have frightenin" rel="nofollow">ing dreams?” Dora jerked up sittin" rel="nofollow">ing on the edge of the bed, and stretchin" rel="nofollow">ing, she asked me: “If you want I will sin" rel="nofollow">ing you somethin" rel="nofollow">ing.” As she sang to me a folk song, “Dormidera,” Dora remin" rel="nofollow">inded me of my mom. Not accidentally in" rel="nofollow">in each generation the woman who loves always has in" rel="nofollow">in her genes this mysterious feelin" rel="nofollow">ing of fosterin" rel="nofollow">ing, and without that there is no love. Dora’s song was born in" rel="nofollow">in Peru. Durin" rel="nofollow">ing my sleepless nights, Dora would try unsuccessfully to console me “Dormi, Dormi, Dormidera, you are tender sleepin" rel="nofollow">ing herb, do not be cruel, our era, do not leave us on the curb If you dry up all eyelashes you will help all see sweet dreams safe as God from wars and clashes free as birds from tears and screams.” 34 X When I arrived with Dora to Leticia there were a lot of frightenin" rel="nofollow">ing miracles. Indian women with wrin" rel="nofollow">inkles on their copper faces, screamin" rel="nofollow">ing, tearin" rel="nofollow">ing out their silver hairs, were howlin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in motley huddles, rollin" rel="nofollow">ing epileptically in" rel="nofollow">in the little wooden airport. A Niagara of tears was gushin" rel="nofollow">ing from their eyes, even dogs were weepin" rel="nofollow">ing, askin" rel="nofollow">ing for pity, it was a talent show of people’s grief. I asked them, “Why are you cryin" rel="nofollow">ing?” An old Indian answered, “Senor poeta, we are children but wise ones who know that very soon you will leave. That is why we are cryin" rel="nofollow">ing and screamin" rel="nofollow">ing, For this explanation I thin" rel="nofollow">ink you owe me at least one peso.” Our Virgilio in" rel="nofollow">invented a special gift for the enjoyment of the local population— a recital of my poetry in" rel="nofollow">in three languages— Indian, Spanish, and Russian. It was the only readin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in my life where an entire population of any one place was present. Two almost naked paparazzi appeared; however, they were better equipped to click their chewin" rel="nofollow">ing gum rather than their shutters. After Dora’s polite but frightenin" rel="nofollow">ing warnin" rel="nofollow">ing, they were full of tact toward this iron lady. Here was present the whole village, 35 from seniors to crawlin" rel="nofollow">ing babies. Even their big chief was expected a little later as accordin" rel="nofollow">ing to the custom of his high rank. Fresh mollusks were served in" rel="nofollow">in shells and a giant crocodile, punished for his blood thirst, was carried in" rel="nofollow">in as a hot appetizer. For redemption of his guilt he was put on a giant skewer over the camp fire. Delicacies were offered for the special occasion: fried piranhas which proved to be harmless and a suspicious liquid carried in" rel="nofollow">in plastic gas cans, which seemed to in" rel="nofollow">increase the in" rel="nofollow">inspirations of our hosts. Fin" rel="nofollow">inally the chief appeared and with a graceful wave of his hand, he tamed the children jumpin" rel="nofollow">ing over the flame. I plopped down, preparin" rel="nofollow">ing to read for all this Indian village high society. The first poem was “The Execution of Stepan Razin" rel="nofollow">in,” about the Russian Robin" rel="nofollow">in Hood executed in" rel="nofollow">in Red Square. I discovered that here (unlike in" rel="nofollow">in the Russian Min" rel="nofollow">inistry of Education) poetry was actually loved and admired. The crowd applauded me with all their strength, killin" rel="nofollow">ing thousands of mosquitoes between their palms. At the end of my readin" rel="nofollow">ing one crocodile hunter asked me, “Sorry, could you read once again" rel="nofollow">in that piece when they cut his head off with the ax? It was so picturesque.” Satisfyin" rel="nofollow">ing as many Indians as possible, I with pleasure cut off once more the head of Stepan Razin" rel="nofollow">in. Unexpectedly all Leticia began to sin" rel="nofollow">ing a multi-verse capella— 36 voices of old men, women, babies, and even unexpectedly in" rel="nofollow">inspired paparazzi. Blistered palms began to bite in" rel="nofollow">into the bellies of many drums. I had never had success like this anywhere, not even in" rel="nofollow">in Madison Square Garden. Afterwards , everyone was enjoyin" rel="nofollow">ing themselves, laughin" rel="nofollow">ing, fallin" rel="nofollow">ing down on the grass, and sometimes cuddlin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the shadows of trees. Like a silly foreigner I asked, “Why do you look so happy?” The same old Indian commented, “We are children but wise ones who know that if you leave us tomorrow , then you will one day return. That is why we are rejoicin" rel="nofollow">ing and don’t suffer. When you come back we again" rel="nofollow">in will hopelessly but collectively cry together. Try Senor poeta everywhere in" rel="nofollow">in this world to endlessly arrive and not leave even in" rel="nofollow">in leavin" rel="nofollow">ing. For this explanation I thin" rel="nofollow">ink you owe me at least one peso. And for your beautiful girl I have one gift, one hammock woven by me, it will be swayin" rel="nofollow">ing, swayin" rel="nofollow">ing, swayin" rel="nofollow">ing, and she will be sayin" rel="nofollow">ing, sayin" rel="nofollow">ing, sayin" rel="nofollow">ing, three magic words out of the blue which in" rel="nofollow">in English sound like 37 ‘I love you.’” Dora, accompanied by a mooin" rel="nofollow">ing vaca exclaimed like a girl who got her childhood back— “Oh, hamaca.” Dora happily melted, kissin" rel="nofollow">ing this gift as she stretched its name “ham-mm-a-ca,” like when I was a baby chewin" rel="nofollow">ing somethin" rel="nofollow">ing sweet, stretchin" rel="nofollow">ing my first word “m-m-m-mmac-a.”12 Oh my multi-colored-skin" rel="nofollow">inny-humanity, you are not like anythin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the world but only like yourself. Surprisin" rel="nofollow">ingly you didn’t lose your kin" rel="nofollow">indness and dignity. Do not permit any cripplers to cripple your soul. Oh my Fathermotherland, could you fin" rel="nofollow">inally fin" rel="nofollow">ind your sisterbrotherhood? 12 Mmaka is a Russian word for “sweet.” 38 XI In our common Motherfatherland, under the stare of our common stars, we were embracin" rel="nofollow">ing while we walked over the wooden, crackin" rel="nofollow">ing bridge to our tin" rel="nofollow">iny hotelin" rel="nofollow">ino. The bridge sadly teetered as if he felt pity for us, and Dora whispered: “Eugenio. Don’t go away.” “Why?”—I asked her. “Don’t be afraid, you will return. At home somethin" rel="nofollow">ing dangerous is waitin" rel="nofollow">ing for you. I feel it with all of my belly.” Suddenly somethin" rel="nofollow">ing alien exploded within" rel="nofollow">in me, a malicious suspicion: “So this means that they gave you a very sensitive mission to recruit me with your love. How long have you worked for them bein" rel="nofollow">ing a mercenary, my beloved?” Dora like a little baby at first didn’t understand me. Before long, however, she was suffocated by a in" rel="nofollow">invisible noose: “That’s only because I am scared for you mi querido.” Unexpectedly her tender whisper changed in" rel="nofollow">into a thunderous scream, even the palm trees were tremblin" rel="nofollow">ing, “I’m scared because I love you, stupid.” And she began to run to the Amazon River with her rolled hamaca pressed again" rel="nofollow">inst her chest, She flung off her shoes to different sides. 39 She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing as if she were chasin" rel="nofollow">ing her death. She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing barefoot, throwin" rel="nofollow">ing to the side everythin" rel="nofollow">ing that was on her, her blouse, her skirt. She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing like a wounded panther, tryin" rel="nofollow">ing to escape from her own skin" rel="nofollow">in. She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing freed forever from cameras, hidin" rel="nofollow">ing from their in" rel="nofollow">intrusive shutters. She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing like a newborn, teeterin" rel="nofollow">ing wildly away from her in" rel="nofollow">insulted hopes. She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in spite of herself, woundin" rel="nofollow">ing her priceless legs, the best in" rel="nofollow">in the world. She was runnin" rel="nofollow">ing where there were piranhas, but even they were not nearly as cruel as love. As she ran I was ripped to shreds by shame and self-hatred, my life condemned. How did everythin" rel="nofollow">ing that I hated in" rel="nofollow">in my life penetrate so deeply in" rel="nofollow">into my soul? When I fin" rel="nofollow">inally caught you Dora, I heard a signal from the sky. It was as if at the edge of disgrace I caught my escapin" rel="nofollow">ing conscience. You stood there in" rel="nofollow">in lucidity, with a deep, reverberatin" rel="nofollow">ing sigh you in" rel="nofollow">interrupted your flight to severely tell me, “Get off your knees. It doesn’t become you.” 40 XII Presentiments of our beloveds are like predictions, and life bitterly confirms all their fears. I didn’t predict what August would brin" rel="nofollow">ing me, what kin" rel="nofollow">ind of shame, what arrogance, what fear. I did not foresee those senile old men of our politburo hatchin" rel="nofollow">ing a vin" rel="nofollow">indictive hybrid from within" rel="nofollow">in their heads. At first they will in" rel="nofollow">invite all Czech leaders and treat them as dearest guests, before arrestin" rel="nofollow">ing them with a friendly shrug. And afterwards tanks will cross borders like armored brothers to an almost friendly roar— and Socialsim, like the student Jan Palach, will burn himself for the horror of the world. Our ambassador Dobrynin" rel="nofollow">in was so clumsily hidin" rel="nofollow">ing his eyes when he read his official note. His tremblin" rel="nofollow">ing hands crumpled the coded note while at the same time armored packages of our so-called friendly mission were movin" rel="nofollow">ing on the streets of Prague. Kissin" rel="nofollow">inger did not tear his hair out and even very happily cackled, ready for his vacation after such a great deal. And I at that time was not whin" rel="nofollow">inin" rel="nofollow">ing, but even I almost killed myself. What helped me durin" rel="nofollow">ing this time? An unexpected dove from Santiago 41 and the image of Dora Franco— with her beauty, boldness, and soul, when my ideal “Socialism” collapsed like a fallen symbol of prosperity and freedom, transformed in" rel="nofollow">into a nest of killers and thieves. The mother of my two young sons, Maria, didn’t permit me to give up at that time. In my soul she was rhymed with the name Russiya and this was my most precise rhyme. I will be happy for my spirit and my descendants, if they will not be blin" rel="nofollow">ind in" rel="nofollow">in the dark. I hope, not weak and not falsely strong, they will always proudly say- not cry: “We are Yevtushenkos. We could not lie.” All the divorces in" rel="nofollow">in my life didn’t give me freedom from love. I couldn’t learn how to unlove any of my beloveds and that is why I am alive and am not an imposter. 42 XIII After a feast and bein" rel="nofollow">ing on unsteady legs I with Dora returned to our hotelin" rel="nofollow">ina. Dora triumphantly unwrapped that gift from that old Indian and smiled: “How could you compare the bed and hamaca?” She hung the hammock on the terrace. When she was defenselessly naked I lost myself. At first I didn’t know what to do when she embraced me, but I very quickly understood. This is a great sign of real love— the shyness of our hands and eyes when each time is like the first and last. She caressed the hammock, like an old friend from her dreams: “Eugenio, this is my childhood. Come in" rel="nofollow">into my childhood with me.” She put her poncho in" rel="nofollow">in the hammock, the coals of her eyes were shin" rel="nofollow">inin" rel="nofollow">ing: “You can rely on me and the hamaca. From us you would never fall in" rel="nofollow">into hell.” She was so teasin" rel="nofollow">ingly swayin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the crown of all constellations, in" rel="nofollow">in a very risky God’s cradle for everythin" rel="nofollow">ing which we call Beauty. I remembered my journey to Guatemala, where an unexpected garden flower grew in" rel="nofollow">in the cornfield. In Spanish these flowers were known as los gladiolos, and the peasants didn’t understand my urban stupidity when I was annoyin" rel="nofollow">ingly questionin" rel="nofollow">ing them like a fool: “Could you explain" rel="nofollow">in to me why these gladioli grow in" rel="nofollow">in the maize field?” 43 Only one campesin" rel="nofollow">ino contin" rel="nofollow">inued to talk to me and he asked: “What kin" rel="nofollow">ind of bird are you, señor?” “You mean my profession? Yo soy el poeta.” “I’m sorry señor, but it is hard to believe that you are el poeta because these flowers exist simply for beauty. El poeta should sense that. Why don’t you understand?” So Dora, in" rel="nofollow">in this way you decorate with yourself our world like a wild gladiolus in" rel="nofollow">in the cornfield. You are part of the beauty which will save the world like it is said by one Russian, unfortunately unknown to you, señor Dostoevsky. I met you Dora after 40 long but in" rel="nofollow">invisible on your face years. I hope we didn’t become old and borin" rel="nofollow">ing. We didn’t fin" rel="nofollow">ind in" rel="nofollow">indifference in" rel="nofollow">in the still-young eyes of each other. How smart and kin" rel="nofollow">ind you were my Dora, that even in" rel="nofollow">in your depths you didn’t remin" rel="nofollow">ind me of my old suspicion, which the Cold War had poisoned me with. And I swear not after over-sweetened fame, not after bein" rel="nofollow">ing wounded in" rel="nofollow">in flight, I will never fall on my knees 44 because I don’t want to become not me. You will be my same Bagheera and I will be the same Mowgli. 13 Adopted by you, goddess of Amazonas, I will stay forever alive. I will try to be like Márquez and Vonnegut, who don’t know in" rel="nofollow">in whose name they are livin" rel="nofollow">ing, but they are livin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in the name of somebody who in" rel="nofollow">invisibly sees all of us. “Dormi, dormi, dormidera.” Who knocks in" rel="nofollow">in the night- a fear? but if conscience lives and vera, 14 our world will not disappear. ---END--- 13 Mowgli and Bagheera are characters from Rudyard Kiplin" rel="nofollow">ing’s The Jungle Book. Bagheera is a black panther who adopts and raises the child, Mowgli. 14 Russian word for “hope.” What exactly is the speaker in" rel="nofollow">in the poem confessin" rel="nofollow">ing? What relationship does the poem try and develop between its Cold War context and the love affair with Dora Franco? What message are we supposed to take from the poem?