I strolled the Malecon,

by myself but not alone.

A warm evening, palms talked

and all around people laughed.

The sun set in a blast of red

leaving the clouds bleeding.

Happy with life I waved at

the balloon man and smiled.

Then I heard music, dance music.

The music of the true Mexico.

Sometimes happy, sometimes sad.

A haunting mirror of life.

I saw flair and flashing eyes;

movement, colour, stamping feet.

A summer of dancers; limbs of spring.

A river of music rattled to the sea.

In that moment my heart bloomed.

I know not why and tears pricked.

Why should this be, why me

the foreigner, what force is this?

The whirling summer flowers

smiled at me as if they knew.

Though surely they were –

too young to understand.

It was immediate,

this emotion of sad gladness!

Not new but overwhelming.

I hoped no one would notice

but deep inside rejoiced

to feel part of the dance,

be part of an ancient culture.

Just to be a tiny part of this!

Was this the magic,

of music and movement.

Of life, people, love and –

laughter in the face of adversity?

The swirl of “faldas amplias.”

A garden dances the wind.

The rhythm of new, old stories,

the heart beat of Mexico.

Wake up, wake up!

You people of Vallarta.

No you. You, who’s home this is.

Not the tourists.

You the proud inheritors of

Mexico’s diverse culture.

You the guardians of this culture,

who move instinctively to this music.

These young people are your

history and your future.

Give them your support,

not just your applause.

The tourists will be gone tomorrow.

Do not expect them to fund your dancers.

La cuenta está en sus manos.

¡Esta es su responsabilidad!

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, February, 2000
 
 
Translation, from the English, by Ms. Sally Korkowski. The extra verses were in the original poem, see below, and are an appeal to the people of Vallarta to support the dancers or they may be gone for ever.