English Poems Translated


[ Home ] [ L'autore ] [ Dedicati ] [ Appuntamenti ] [ Racconti ] [ Poesie 1 ] [ Poesie 2 ] [ Pubblicazioni ] [ Collaborazioni ] [ Autori Preferiti ] [ Le parole degli altri ] [ Giorni Rappresentativi ] [ English Poems Translated ] [ Musica Preferita ] [ Link ]

(1993)
(by Ermanno Bartoli)

dressed like the roses.
 

LETTER TO MOM  
(Lettera alla madre)

(Tribute to Silas Soule, 1839 - 1865)  

(by Ermanno Bartoli)

 English Translation by Lorenzo Vantaggiato

    Dear Mother,

Your son is sorrowfully writing to you

on a day like this;

I then had to endure twenty-five years

to come to this!

To have to witness so much horror and ruin…

brothers’ arms used to kill other brothers

(such are red men to me)

and have to fight a war I don’t believe in

and declared to a defenseless people I love,

but I will not stand back

I will engage in the fight

so that no vile blow

useless and white

may be shot in my presence,

to children, women and the old

or even an adult defending their hut;

my very spirit would not allow that,

hence I will command my men not to fire.

I’m on my way, Mother

save a prayer for me,

so that my commitment doesn’t fail me

and my spirit may return with my body.                        

And when I’m back East, Mother

I will be sure to find me a woman

and hope fate puts me in touch

with the one I search for,

and then I want to quit my smoke,

here at the camp waits can be long

and there’s often nothing else to do;

Ed also smokes much.

Save a prayer for me, Mother

so that your son

may still return proud

to have the sun in his eyes;

no prize would be greater…

not even the safety of my body in battle.

Now I must go,

the horse attendants are on the move.

I embrace you, Mother.

Salute everyone for me.

A big kiss to your heart.

  Yours, Silas.

Silas Soule, Captain and Major of the US Army and an abolitionist since a very young age, with a squad of Colorado volunteers at the command of Coronel John Chivington took part in the assault of Black Pot’s Cheyenne camp near Sand Creek (29th November 1864); in open contrast with a man who had until then been his friend, he ordered his men to go through the camp without firing; the fact that Soule did not stand back -handing command to someone else- was crucial in allowing a few survivors to come out of the assault. Soule’s men obeyed their captain’s mandate; however, the one at Sand Creek went down in American history as the most serious and shameful massacre perpetrated on a defenseless population: about two hundred women, old people and children (only about sixty warriors) were slaughtered, massacred and maimed by Chivington’s men.

After the battle, Chivington met with popular acclaim as a hero, but the public opinion very soon shifted when rumors of a bloodbath started circulating. Such rumors seemed to be confirmed when Chivington had six of his men arrested on the allegation of cowardice in battle. Among the six, there was Captain Silas Soule who had the courage to denounce the atrocities on the Army’s side and bring “his” Coronel before a martial court. “That of Sand Creek has been a true carnage; a heinous massacre of women, old people and children”, he later declared. He also added horrific details of mutilations done with particular insistence on victims’ genitals and pregnant women, who had their fetus removed and ferociously suppressed by soldiers. At that point, the War Secretary had the six immediately released and Congress started a formal investigation on the facts.

Unfortunately, Soule could not complete his testimony as, a week after his release (he was barely 26) he was murdered in Denver, shot in the back by a gunman. Despite indictment, Chivington managed not to be convicted by the martial court as he had already left the Army and could no longer be punished. However, Soule’s words had already had an impact: an Army judge publicly declared that “Sand Creek had been an instance of profound cowardice and a slaughter perpetrated in cold blood, a gesture sufficient to shed indelible infamy on the culprits and, at the same time, provoke indignation in all Americans”.

Chivington survived Soule for about twenty years, but, in the meantime, his star had faded forever. In 1883 he attempted a political career, but his responsibility for the Sand Creek massacre forced him to renounce. He then worked in Denver as a sheriff for some time, before dying of cancer.

This poem is dedicated to a man who was courageously great in his short life. Here, he is a young officer writing letters to his mother to express his deep affection, as well as bitterness and contempt for what the Army is causing to Indians, and acting in accordance. Some of the sentences quoted are freely taken from “Tears in the Sand”: a sort of text which restores the truth on the wrongdoing; others (based on Soule’s clear personality and his words’ sharp meaning) are a creation of the author.

The Ed to whom the poem refers is Major Edward Wynkoop, Soule’s slose friends and companion in the battle for the defense of Indians’ rights.

  An enormously important fact is that, from that shady 1864 to 1890 (Wounded Knee massacre), also thanks to the courageous denounce of men like Soule, the bad conscience of the US Army and government acted a a brake, preventing for twenty-six years any attempt to put into practice other massacres. Despite all the haughty-sounding “big names”, often connected with shameful and tragic history pages, it is men like this who make history.  In the end, Silas Soule succeeded in his intent to bring his body out of the battle, and his spirit beyond his life borders.

 (e. b.)  

Letter by Silas Soule to Walt Whitman

February 12, 1865.
To: Walter Whitman,
Paymaster Office
Washington City

Dear Walt,
The Cheyennes didn't get their lands. Or food. Or justice. What they got was slaughtered. Last November 29th the governor sent out Colonel Chivington and a regiment of Hundred Daysers just to kill the ones that camped under our protection at Sandy Creek. Along the way they managed to surround Fort Lyons, dragoon the Colorado First and me. The colonel cried for vengeance, said he'd string up any son-of-a-bitch who'd bury their bodies or their bones, quote unquote. It wasn't an army, it was a mob. I flat refused to order any of my men or open fire. I soon found out what's underneath that hide of Christian love. The colonel-preacher went at me like I was 666 itself. But I stuck fast; two days I testified before an Army board, the colonel shouting challenges, the works. I thought of you, and not without a smile. I mean, here I am a soldier hectored by a colonel just because I wouldn't fight. A preacher, who wanted to kill the innocent, up against an infidel who wouldn't. What do you make of that? Anyhow, about a half of the population want to kill me. The other half are getting there. But some Episcopals are showing signs of backbone and the Army's on my side. Do I know what Quakers must go through?

Fraternal greetings.

Your friend,
Si