Ode to Gabriel Garcia Marquez

He is a mountain
Encompassing the world.
His rivers spill over
Onto pages populated
By trees whose leaves
Are each his own
Unique and colorful form.

It is not enough for him
To create the magnificent
Countryside, to wring from every
Stone, every blade of grass,
Every cloud, a teeming universe,
He must make you understand
The secret heart of desire,
Of the anguish experienced
By his creation,
For he writes what we all
Secretly feel:
The crushing weight of being,
The feeling of death already
Eating our bones.

His words are mouthfuls of blood
Scratched from the desperate
Colombian soul,
Lifetimes of solitude and surrender,
Of soil soaked in blood,
Centuries that laugh and weep
With ironic tears.

Therefore, after traversing
His lyrical mountains,
One does not know
Whether to laugh or cry
Or to simply die
With handfuls of dust
And diamonds.