David Bowles's Blog: Meme Floe

The poem “The Midday Witch” (“Polednice” in Czech) was written by Czech folklorist and poet Karel Jaromír Erben in 1834. It was included in his 1853 collection A Bouquet of Folk Legends (Kytice z pověstí národních), also known by the short title Bouquet (Kytice).

In the piece, Erben evokes the legendary Polednice—a noon demon in Slavic mythology, known in English as the Midday Witch, Lady Midday, Noonwraith, Noon Witch, or Noonday Witch. She is usually pictured as a woman who roams fields and meadows. She attacks children playing outside at noon or adults working at that hour, causing heatstrokes, madness, or death.

Erben uses this wraith in his poem as a symbol of maternal neglect.

The Midday Witch

By the bench there stands a boy
who is screaming, loud and wild.
“Will you lower your Roma voice?
Just shut up, you bratty child!”

“Now it’s very nearly noon,
but I’m not finished with the meal.
Your dad will be here soon,
so stop your sinful squeals!

“Here’s your wagon, naughty boy,
and a soldier—Go and play!”
With a crash his battered toys
to a corner fly away.

Once again an impish howl,
and the mother’s eyelids twitch.
“Little rascal, hush right now,
or I’ll call the Midday Witch!

“Midday Witch, track his spoor!
Come and take this pest from me!”
Someone standing at the door
then softly turns the key—

She’s small and brown and quite insane,
a roughspun sheet wrapped all about;
Her gnarled fingers grip a cane
as her whirlwind voice comes swirling out!

“Give that child here!” she moans.
The mother begs the Lord in fear,
but Death craves not her bones.
Behold! The Midday Witch is here!

Silent as shadows cast at noon,
the witch towards the table creeps:
The breathless mother starts to swoon—
on her lap the child she firmly keeps.

Twisting round, she dares a glance—
Alas, poor boy, it’s no mere scare.
She creeps and deepens the deadly trance,
closer and closer—till the Witch is there!

She stretches forth her claw to grasp
the child whose mother holds him tight:
“By the passion of the Christ!” she gasps,
before she faints from fright.

Then one—two—three—four—
the bells are tolling noon.
The handle clicks, and through the door
a father steps into the room.

Unconscious sits his wife,
his son clasped to her breast,
The mother he can soon revive,
but their precious boy—is dead.

—Translated by David Bowles
February 1, 2025

Original Czech

Polednice

U lavice dítě stálo,
z plna hrdla křičelo.
„Bodejž jsi jen trochu málo,
ty cikáně, mlčelo!

Poledne v tom okamžení,
táta přijde z roboty:
a mně hasne u vaření
pro tebe, ty zlobo, ty!

Mlč! Hle husar a kočárek –
hrej si! – tu máš kohouta!“ –
Než kohout, vůz i husárek
bouch, bác! letí do kouta.

A zas do hrozného křiku –
„I bodejž tě sršeň sám – !
Že na tebe, nezvedníku,
Polednici zavolám!

Pojď si proň, ty Polednice,
pojď, vem si ho, zlostníka!“ –
A hle, tu kdos u světnice
dvéře zlehka odmyká.

Malá, hnědá, tváři divé
pod plachetkou osoba;
o berličce, hnáty křivé,
hlas – vichřice podoba!

„Dej sem dítě!“ – „Kriste Pane,
odpusť hříchy hříšnici!“
Divže smrt ji neovane,
Ejhle tuť – Polednici!

Ke stolu se plíži tiše
Polednice jako stín:
matka hrůzou sotva dýše,
dítě chopíc na svůj klín.

A vinouc je, zpět pohlíží –
běda, běda dítěti!
Polednice blíž se plíží,
blíž – a již je v zápětí.

Již vztahuje po něm ruku –
matka tisknouc ramena:
„Pro Kristovu drahou muku!“
klesá smyslů zbavená.

Tu slyš: jedna – druhá – třetí –
poledne zvon udeří;
klika cvakla, dvéře letí –
táta vchází do dvéří.

Ve mdlobách tu matka leží,
k ňadrám dítě přimknuté:
matku vzkřísil ještě stěží,
avšak dítě – zalknuté.

Since South Korean poet Han Kang has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, I wanted to celebrate that well-deserved recognition by sharing one of my favorite poems of hers, from her 2013 collection 서랍에 저녁을 넣어 두었다 (I Put the Evening in the Drawer).

A Thing Called the Heart

I stare at an erased word.

A part of a faintly visible line
where an L or V angles
around spaces already empty
before it was erased.

I want to squeeze into such a place
hunching my shoulders,
bending at the waist,
kneeling as I squeeze my ankles together.

But this heart that wants to fade
can erase nothing else.

A less faded knife
parts my lips lengthwise.
And my tongue, looking for a darker place,
curls back in silence.

—Translated by David Bowles
October 10, 2024

Original Korean

심장이라는 사물

지워진 단어를 들여다본다

희미하게 남은 선의 일부
ㄱ
또는 ㄴ이 구부러진 데
지워지기 전에 이미
비어 있던 사이들

그런곳에 나는 들어가고 싶어진다
어깨를 안으로 말고
허리를 접고
무릎을 구부리고 힘껏 발목을 오므려서

희미해지려는 마음은
그러나 무엇도 희미하게 만들지 않고

덜 지워진 칼은
길게 내 입술을 가르고
더 캄캄한 데를 찾아
동그랗게 뒷걸음질치는 나의 혀는

—한강

About five years ago, I translated but didn’t publish the shorter of the two existing Nahuatl poetry codices, the one known by its Spanish title Romances de los señores de la Nueva España, which I decolonize as SONGS OF THE LORDS OF ANAHUAC. For those who are interested in Nezahualcoyotl, this manuscript preserves most of his poetry.

I’m now revising those translations and creating a “normative” (consistent) transcription of the Nahuatl originals, adding notes to make obscure references easier for readers. I’ll be sharing these at a rate of about two a week on my Medium account.

Bookmark the main page (with the table of contents)!

Episode 13 of the K-drama Welcome to Samdal-ri features a mournful poem about loving someone in solitary silence, from poet Kim Ki-seong’s collection Love Blooms, but It Blooms in Silence (사랑은 피워도, 침묵 속에 피워라). However, the show’s writer (Kwon Hye-joo) helps us to see that even the cold, dull edge of frustrated love can be heated and honed again to a sharp bite of happiness.

Love Blooms in Silence

Love blooms, but it blooms in silence.
I worry that even a chance encounter will make you regret.
Where might you and I end up once we leave that place?
Wherever you are—no matter how far away, my dear—
it may feel cold, but let love bloom
in silence without anyone knowing.

Just as a sharp blade grows dull with use,
we’ll let love bloom alone just long enough
that it grows cold, cold and dull.

—Translated by David Bowles
March 15, 2024

Original Korean

사랑은 피워도, 침묵 속에 피워라

사랑은 피워도, 침묵 속에 피워라
우연한 스침조차 그대에게 미안한 일이 될까 봐
너와 나, 그곳을 떠나 어디쯤 있을꺼
어느 먼 곳, 어딘가 있든 그대여
시리겠지만 아무도 모르게 침묵 속에 사랑을 피워라
바짝 날이 선 칼날이 쓰임에 무뎌지듯
시리다 시리다 무뎌질 정도만 홀로 사랑을 피우자

― 김기성

The Prince & the Coyote has won a Pura Belpré YA Author Honor (from the American Library Association, ALSC, and REFORMA). Congrats to the other winners and honorees!

Here’s the cover of HEARTS OF FIRE AND SNOW, the upcoming YA romantic fantasy by Guadalupe Garcia McCall and me, featuring art by the amazing Beatriz Vasquez! This retelling of / sequel to the legend of volcanoes Iztaccihuatl and Popocatepetl publishes June 2024 from Bloomsbury.

Award-winning authors David Bowles and Guadalupe García McCall reimagine a beloved Aztec tale of star-crossed lovers with one last chance to reunite.

Blanca Montes wants to make a difference in the world, to do more than her wealthy godfather and spoiled boyfriend think her capable of. So when Greg Chan shows up as a new student at her Nevada school, she is more than intrigued by this handsome, brilliant stranger.

But Greg and Blanca are drawn to each other by something stronger–their fates entwined centuries ago. In his first life, Greg was Captain Popoca, and Blanca is the reincarnation of Princess Iztac, who took her own life after believing her beloved Popoca was sent to his death in battle. Greg has spent a thousand years searching for his lost love, and now the fates have given them one more chance to reunite. Will their hearts finally beat as one?

This swoony contemporary fantasy is perfect for fans of These Violent Delights and This Poison Heart.

AVAILABLE NOW! My new novel of historical fiction, The Prince & The Coyote. Tetzcoco’s Crown Prince Acolmiztli, aka “Nezahualcoyotl,” goes on the run as a teen after his father’s kingdom is conquered. After three years in exile, struggling to survive and forge alliances even as he falls unexpectedly in love, the prince reunites with his uncles and plans the overthrow of the tyrant who destroyed his future. Together, they exact justice and found the Triple Alliance of Anahuac … what we call the Aztec Empire.

I’m so delighted that my first collaboration with Guadalupe García McCall is out today!

Secret of the Moon Conch is a memorable blend of timeless romance, rousing adventure, well researched historical fiction, and deeply felt social commentary.

In 1521, Aztec teen Calizto is trapped in his native city of Tenochtitlan while it’s under siege by the allied forces of Tlaxcallan and Spain. He’s lost all his family to smallpox and shares what little food he has with a formerly enslaved young African man who was left behind when the Spaniards fled a year ago and whom he’s sworn to protect. Desperate for a way out of an impossible situation, he takes up his mother’s sacred trumpet, a moon conch that should only be touched by a woman, and sounds a plea to the gods.

Five hundred years in the future, Sitlali is a Mexican girl from the town of Zongolica in the state of Veracruz. She has just lost her grandmother, her only living relative in Mexico, and is fending off the advances of a low-level drug-dealing teen. Yearning for a chance at happiness and connection, she sets off for the US, where her father has lived for many years. Before she leaves, she visits the beach with her friends and finds a conch shell washed ashore. When she picks it up, she and Calizto are connected mind-to-mind across the centuries.

At first they are just disembodied voices in each other’s heads, but as the moon grows larger in the night sky, they are able to gradually see each other and finally can touch when the moon is full. Each has knowledge and skills that can help the other survive, and as they struggle together against mounting adversity, they fall in love.

It’s an impossible relationship, they both understand, but they cling to each other despite the odds.

And not even five hundred years can keep them apart.

COVER REVEAL!!! Behold The Prince & The Coyote—my historical novel about Nezahualcoyotl—coming from Levine Querido in both English and Spanish (as El príncipe y el coyote) on September 26, 2023. Featuring amazing cover and interior art by the brilliant Amanda Mijangos!

It’s publication day for ANCIENT NIGHT (and NOCHE ANTIGUA)! Pick up a copy of my critically hailed collaboration with David Álvarez: an interweaving and retelling of timeless tales from Mesoamerica that will leave readers both young and old in peaceful awe at the cosmos.