domingo, 26 de junio de 2016

Guardo tu frágil como mío

Guardo tu frágil como mío 
es tus cosas, tu vida, yo sé.
Dirás, qué viene a decir por mí
pero cuántas son las noches
pero quién las durará
quién las pasa por uno una de esas.
Por quién, por vos que te quisiste
te quisiste  y no entendieron.
Es temprano, estoy tarde para tu antes 
y es tan curvo tu traje, tan estrecho 
aún el mío. Amanece.
¿Estarás cuando esto ocurra?
Sostuve tres veces tu frente en esta noche
tres veces tu frente en esta noche
tres veces tu frente en esta noche.

jueves, 16 de junio de 2016

Marzo, brazos yermos nada de fiestas.

Marzo, brazos yermos nada de fiestas.
Secas las doce en punto mala estalló en mi mano
la intención de muy cerrar el no en el
nunca endurece frío este portón
de buena lámina volado hoy mismo 
antes de avisar si es que se rompió 
mi hermana entre mi hermana
cuantos años de apoyar su trenza en el amén 
eran las dos prestando sueño y camisón sin
hacerse la pregunta sigue en el hilo de
la fruta tibia a punto de caer
esas ciruelas de febrero en tanta
tierra se desprecian solas contra el suelo.
Marzo, los brazos yermos nada de fiestas.



Lo que de abajo bajaste

a  R Z

Lo que de abajo bajaste 
para que lo toquemos,

cubierto lo tocamos
por limo.


Lo que en mi boca 
pusiste por cruz,

por estrella lo llevo 
en mi boca.






lunes, 6 de junio de 2016

THE URGE IN ME INSISTS

A Poem by  Adela Busquet. Translated by Arturo Desimone



THE URGE IN ME INSISTS



The urge insists inside me.

To play the ox

for the evil wagon.

Insistent, the sovereign

decrepitude.

Acting the ox,

bound

neither to the wagon

nor on the road.

It insists, as if saying

go back.



To fight without opponents,

know,

if you throw dust

dust falls.



A Thing that takes, or that carries

does not drag,

a fighter stays in good weight.



Insist, as in wanting.

Like having let loose.

Insist the wheel

to wheel off its spoke

and to the spindle, insist, insist.

 *

About two days ago I saw a black man,

the negro crying, looking

at a beggar who was a Malvinas veteran.

He gave him two pesos and dried his face

with his wool cap.

In Plaza Miserere, under the subway

He carried three big valises

a Chicago Bulls backpack.

I understood he brought these suitcases from his country.

Never, until then, had I

seen a black man cry.



This is the title poem of Leli's (Adela's) book Insiste en mí la gana, published by Melón Editora books in 2014 in Argentina. 


"*Translator's note: my urge to translate this poem relates to the ending--the theophany or vision of Adela when she sees a black tourist from United States wiping the face of an Argentine veteran of the Malvinas wars (the war between the Argentine regime and England over the Malvinas island colonies, in which many very young Argentine soldiers drafted by the regime were killed, wounded or otherwise traumatized.) For most Argentinians born in the 20th century, it was a rarity to ever see black people--black as in African-descended black people--until the 1990s, when Senegalese merchants began to immigrate and today sell their wares in areas of Buenos Aires. Before then, most Argentinians, unless they had travelled outside of their immense country (one-third the size of India), had seldom or never seen black people. Because I was born and raised in the Caribbean, where some my earliest memories involve black people, while my father was an Argentinian exile from the regime period, I found this naivete especially curious and hope to have communicated, across languages, the sincerity in the vision of Adela at Plaza Miserere in Buenos Aires. Adela's vision takes place in the new Argentina after the country's humiliation by the financial devastation and instability of the crisis of 2001, period after which the Argentinian cultural self-image changed considerably. I hope my attempt to give some historical -cultural context does not impede on the reading experience of Adela's poem.