Nanas de la Cebolla (Onion Lullabies), by Miguel Hernandez, 1939, was composed while the poet was in jail after the Spanish Civil War. It was sparked by a letter from his wife, where she told him that she only had bread and onions to eat, and that both she and his child suffered from severe hunger. Hernandez contracted tuberculosis in jail, dying without ever meeting his son.
The kidnapped princess locked in a tower
spins her escape ladder
from golden hair
a soldier ends famine-induced distrust
as villagers enjoy his stone soup
the laughter of a baby
whose nursing mother
eats bread and onions
soothes his hungry mother’s sadness
his incarcerated father’s loneliness.
This is the era for new fairy tales
without happily-ever-after
dolphins swim in canals
lions patrol the streets
police sing and dance for shut-ins
a Tyrannosaurus Rex takes out the trash
we are at home
-if we are lucky enough to have a home
we are with the ones we love
-or we are isolated with only the sound of our thoughts
and an endless stream of video soundbites.
Nights are eerily quiet
unnaturally long
in once-busy cities, suburban outskirts
and here
a hillside town that reverberated riotously
with the sounds of life
Estudiantinas with spirited tambourines, guitars walking down the streets with an ever-increasing sing-along crowd singing Spanish favorites
the soundtrack of youthful machismo from cars cruising down Cantarranas, motors revved and radios blaring
the cacophony of rooftop dogs barking at passersby
boozy howls of post-bar-closing patrons.
Under a ruthless crown
a spell has been cast
we have slipped into deep slumber
preternaturally quiet
to be awakened by the kiss of …
– oh, the kiss of anyone will do –
when we have shaken off the winter frost
overthrown the corona
out from our caves will wander
the untouched, unhugged and unkissed
in a swell of arousal
filling the streets and bars and alleyways and storefronts and plaza squares
sating our touch-starved skin
the hunger of mouths for more than stone, onion, bread
the nights-long parade of dance and song
the smell of roasted foods in pushcarts
princesses will leave their towers
soldiers put down their sticks and guitars
the days of isolation, sadness and hunger
replaced with laughter
we will keep our waters clean
soar with lark song in uncluttered skies
un-jail our love
free our longings
live happily
in the after
knowing
we are not to know
what is to come.
You are so brilliant. Your imagery and POV on the history we are living is fresh, unexpected, thrilling even. Your writing makes me smile and nod in agreement. I can’t wait for all the hugs and kisses and touching to begin!
Thank you! May this day come soon!
What an anthem of hope. If you were still in Spain, I would have said this could have served as the anthem for the beginning of the post-Franco era. Still, it works very well as one for all of us for now. Maybe I’ll print it big and put it in my car window 🙂