I have posted some poems and song lyrics that are used in Landscapes of Uncertainty.

 Poems & Lyrics

Canción del árbol del olvido      
--Fernán Silva Valdés     
      
En mis pagos hay un árbol
que del olvido se llama
al que van a despenarse, vidalitá
los moribundos del alma.

Para no pensar en vos,
bajo el árbol del olvido,
me acosté una nochecita, vidalitá
y me quedé bien dormido.

Al despertar de aquel sueño
pensaba en vos otra vez,
pues me olvidé de olvidarte, vidalitá
en cuantito me acosté.

Song of the Tree of Oblivion
—Fernán Silva Valdés, translation by C. McCurdy + E. Marabotto

In my town there is a tree
called the tree of oblivion,
visited by those who want to lose their sorrow,
those whose souls are dying.

So as not to think of you,
I lay down one night
beneath the tree of oblivion,
and I fell fast asleep.

When I awoke from my sleep
I thought of you once again:
I’d forgotten to forget you
As soon as I lay down.

St. James Infirmary
--traditional, sung by Francis Faye

    I went down to old Joe's bar room, on the corner by the square
    Well, the drinks were bein' served as usual, and this motley crowd was there

    Well, on my left stood Joe McKennedy, and his eyes were bloodshot red
    When he told me that sad story, these were the words he said:

    I went down to the St. James infirmary, I saw my baby there
    She was stretched out on a long white table, so cold, and fine, and fair.

    Let her go, let her go, God bless her, wherever she may be
    She can search this world over, never find another man like me

    When I die Oh lord please bury me in my high top Stetson hat
    Put gold coins over my eyelids, so the boys will know I died standing pat

    Get six crapshooting pallbearers, six chorus girls to sing me a song,
    Put a jazz band behind my hearse wagon, to raise hell as we roll along.

    Get sixteen coal black horses, to pull that rubber tired hack.
    There's thirteen men going to the graveyard, only twelve men are coming back

    Well, now you've heard my story, well, have another round of booze,
    And if anyone should ever, ever ask you, I've got the St. James infirmary blues!

A Route of Evanescence
--Emily Dickinson

A Route of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel --
A Resonance of Emerald --
A Rush of Cochineal --
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head --
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride --

Take My Hand, Precious Lord
--words & music by Thomas A. Dorsey, sung by Mahelia Jackson

Precious lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
Im tired, Im weak, Im lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear precious lord linger near
When my light is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious lord, lead me home

Precious lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
Im tired, Im weak, Im lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious lord, lead me home

Oda al picaflor
--Pablo Neruda

 Al colibri,
Volante,
Chispa de agua,
Incandescente gota
De fuego
Americano,
Resumen
Encendido
De la selva,
Arco iris
De precision
Celeste:
Al picaflor
Un arco,
Un
Hilo
De oro,
Una fogata
Verde!

Oh
Minimo
Relampago
Viviente,
Cuando
Se sostiene
En el aire
Tu
Estructura
De pollen,
Pluma
O brasa,
Te pregunto,
Que cose eres,
En donde
Te originas?
Tal vez en la edad ciega
Del diluvio
En el lodo
De la fertilidad,
Cuando
La rosa
Se congelo enuno puno de antracita
Y se matricularon los metales
Cada uno en
Su secreta
Galleria,
Tal vez entonces
Del reptil
Herido
Rodo un fragmento,
Un atomo
De oro,
La ultima
Escama cosmica, una
Gota
Del incendio terrestre
Y volo
Suspendiendo to hermosura,
Tu iridiscente
Y rapido zafiro.

Duernes
En una nuez,
Cabes en una
Miniscula corolla,
Flecha,
Designio,
Escudo,
Vibracion
De la miel, rayo del pollen,
Eres
Tan valeroso
Que el halcon
Con su negra emplumadura
No te amedrenta:
Giras
Como luz en la luz,
Aire an el aire,
Y entras
Volando
En el estuche humedo
De una flor temblorosa
Sin miedo
De que su miel nupcial te decapite.

Del escarlata al oro espolvoreado,
Al Amarillo que arde,
A la rara
Esmeralda cenicienta,
Al terciopelo anaranjado y negro
De tu tornasolado corselete,
Hasta el dibujo
Que como
Espina de ambar
Te comienza,
Pequeno ser supreme,
Eres milagro,
Y ardes
Desde
California caliente
Hasta el silbido
Del viento amargo de la Patagonia.
Semilla del sol
Eres,
Duego
Emplumado,
Minuscule
Bandera
Voladora,
Petalo do los pueblos que callaron,
Silaba
De la sangre enterrada,
Penacho
Del antiguo
Corazon
Sumergido.
 

Ode the Hummingbird
--Pablo Neruda trans. By Stephen Mitchell

 To the flower-sipper,
Flying
Spark of water,
Incandescent drop
Of  American
Fire,
Brilliant
Epitome
Of the jungle,
Rainbow
Of celestial
Precision:
To the hummingbird,
An arc,
A
Golden
Thread,
A blaze
Of green!

O
Tiny animated
Lightningflash,
As
Your
Structure
Of pollen
Hovers
In the air,
Feather
Or live coal,
I ask you,
What are you,
Where
Is your origin?
Perhaps in the blind age
Of the flood,
In the mire
Of fertility,
When
The rose
Congealed into a fist of coal
And metals signed up,
Each one in
Its secret
Cubicle,
Perhaps then
From the wounded
Reptile
One fragment whirled out,
One atom
Of gold,
The final
Cosmic sliver, one
Drop
Of earthly fire,
And it flew
Dangling your beauty,
Your iridescent
And quick sapphire.

You sleep
In a walnut
Fit into a minuscule corolla,
Arrow,
Invention,
Coat of arms,
Vibration
Of honey, ray of pollen,
You are
So valiant
That the falcon
With his black plumage
Doesn’t frighten you:
You whirl
Like light in light,
Air in air,
And fly into
The moist coffer of
A quivering flower
Without fear
That its nuptial honey will behead you.

From scarlet to powdered gold,
To blazing yellow,
To the rare
Ashen emerald,
To the orange-and-black velvet
Of your shimmering corselet,
Out to the tip
That like
An amber thorn
Begins you,
Small, superlative being,
You are a miracle,
And you blaze
From
Warm California
To the whistling
Of the bitter winds of Patagonia.
You are seed
Of the sun,
Feathered
Flame,
Minuscule
Streaming
Banner,
Petal of silenced races,
Syllable
Of buried blood,
Plume
Of the ancient
Submerged
Heart