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Two Poems from Árbol Desatado, by Carlos Barbarito.
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And my heart owns a doubt Whether 'tis in us to arise with day And save ourselves unaided. |
English version by Brian Cole. |
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| Nada crece excepto el pasto. | Nothing grows except the grass. |
| Nada salta a la vista salvo alguna piedra | Nothing leaps into sight except some stone |
| y lo que la piedra contiene y resguarda. | and what the stone continues and protects. |
| Aquí, lejos de la playa, | Here, far from the beach, |
| lejos del sitio donde el agua | far from the place where the water |
| devuelve cada tanto | returns every so often |
| metales oxidados, enmohecidas maderas, | rusted metal, mouldy wood, |
| algún cadáver de delfín o de tortuga. | the corpse of a dolphin or a turtle. |
| No sopla el viento capaz de empujarnos | The wind does not blow with the force |
| hacia lo entonces prometido. | to propel us as far as the promised then. |
| Los minutos que pasan se hacen horas | The minutes that pass become hours |
| pero jamás días y sí noches | but never days, they become nights |
| que jamás consienten en ser años | that never agree to be years, |
| y sí siglos en los que alguien muere | and centuries in which somebody dies |
| y otro, que lo ignora, bosteza. | and someone else, who does not know it, yawns. |
| (Grosmont Castle: The Great Chimney.) | English version by Ricardo Nirenberg. |
| Otros son los muertos. Flotan | The dead are not like us. Suspended |
| en el silencio del mediodía, nostálgicos | in the midday still, they miss |
| de la saciedad y la sed. Se alejan, | satiety and thirst. They wane, |
| no se alejan. Tienen ojos que no usan, | yet stay. Their eyes are set aside, |
| manos que no acarician, por gusto | their hands do not caress, eager |
| o temor, la pétrea materia verdinegra. | or fearful, the stony mossy stuff. |
| Otros llevan lámparas apagadas, | They carry extinguished lamps, |
| visten raídos capotes, esgrimen escudos rotos. | threadbare raincoats, broken shields. |
| Nos abrazamos y es luz, retamas hasta el horizonte, | We hug and all lights up, broom as far as one can see, |
| asentado presente. Entonces, | a settled present moment. We feel |
| es la respiración de cada hierba | each grass blade's breath |
| apretada contra otra hierba | pressed against another blade |
| o solitaria, lo que se manifiesta, | or by itself: |
| nos alcanza y atraviesa, | it catches up to us and pierces through, |
| torna de a poco y de nuevo madera | then slowly turns back into wood |
| a lo que era apenas aserrines dispersos en el aire. | that which was sawdust scattered in the air. |
Carlos Barbarito was born in 1955 in Pergamino, a small town in the Argentine Pampas. Since 1985, he has published numerous volumes of poetry and received many prestigious prizes. His work also appears in the internet at http://www.brindinpress.demon.co.uk, http://www.revistaetcetera.com.br, http://www.caminosdepakistan.com
Brian Cole was born in Southhampton in 1932 and lives near London. After a career in business he now runs Brindin Press. His translation of Pablo Neruda's "The Captain's Verses" was published by Anvil Press in 1994. In 2000 Arc Publications published "Anthracite", a selection of his translations from the Italian of Bartolo Cattafi - this collection was a "Recommended Translation" by the Poetry Book Society. In August 2001 Brindin Press published his translations of Circe Maia under the title "Yesterday a Eucalyptus", which was also chosen Recommended Translation by the PBS and awarded a translation prize by the British Centre for Literary Translation.
E-mail can be sent to [email protected]