Almost 20 years ago I had a literature teacher that was in love with words. So obvious was her love for sentences, metaphors, alliterations, ellipses... that she managed to passed it on to us, to so many teenagers, so many school years.
This weekend many of those students got together and delivered a surprise poetic recital in her honour with music, theatre, and, of course, poetry.
I couldn't be there (physically) but I thought up a way of sending myself over to my small village in Spain, with my other fellow students of a few years ago.
So I went out to the nearest field, donned my best Isadora Duncan dress and picked up one of my favourite poetry books (that I discovered thanks to Mercedes, my teacher), and got my picture taken, which was shown at the end of a collage/ presentation at the end of the recital.
The good teachers give you medicine, tools, magic wands. They are human and fallible, but their inspiration is divine.
When I need some cheering up, I put on my best pirate accent and I recite to myself some stanzas from the Canción del pirata.
“Sail on, my swift one! nothing fear;
Nor calm, nor storm, nor foeman's force,
Shall make thee yield in thy career
Or turn thee from thy course.
Despite the English cruisers fleet
We have full twenty prizes made;
And see their flags beneath my feet
A hundred nations laid.
My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.