Tuesday, October 12, 2010

12th of October Transforming History

[En castellano, mas abajo]

Today, 12th of October, is the anniversary of the discovery of the American continent by Christopher Columbus. A controversial issue because millions of Amerindians died and their culture was destroyed because of it, but it happened already, and as a result, another culture was born, and most of us, North Americans, Central Americans, and South Americans, are the result of that original mix.

We do not have control of the past, but  the future is ours. This, will be a result of our own actions. Everything we do right now, at this moment, will have a repercussion or thousands or millions of them, just like the soundwaves of a big Brazilian timbal bringing happiness during a night of Carnival.

We cannot change History, but we can transform it, from now on. Let's do it.


Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Refreshing Poetry


It was fortunate that I left late for work this morning because that delay allowed me to catch Garrison Keillor’s The Writer's Almanac (http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/) . So, while I drove through streets and highways, traffic congestion was totally forgotten with the sounds coming out the radio which in my mind appeared as beautiful gems full of interesting and complete information, even though this one is summarized to the maximum… I mean, Ernest Hemingway and James Tate, among the other writers remembered today, could be discussed for hours, but Keillor has himself mastered the art of talking about his virtual guests in a short yet insightful way.


That is how, Tate, an important American poet whom I did not know at all until I had to take a required American Literature class in a U.S. college came to mind. He writes my favorite kind of poetry, almost experimental, surprising, refreshing … he describes life-moments like a photographer would do when taking a shot of a precious image which remains suspended in time. The Academy of American Poets describes his poetry by citing a comment made by another poet, John Ashbery:

"Local color plays a role, but the main event is the poet's wrestling with passing moments, frantically trying to discover the poetry there and to preserve it, perishable as it is. Tate is the poet of possibilities, of morph, of surprising consequences, lovely or disastrous, and these phenomena exist everywhere... I return to Tate's books more often perhaps than to any others when I want to be reminded afresh of the possibilities of poetry."


Just to Feel Human by James Tate
(2001)

A single apple grew on our tree, which
was some kind of miracle because it was a
pear tree. We walked around it scratching
our heads. "You want to eat it?" I asked
my wife. "I’d die first," she replied. We
went back into the house. I stood by the
kitchen window and stared at it. I thought
of Adam and Eve, but I didn’t believe in Adam
and Eve. My wife said, "If you don’t stop
staring at that stupid apple I’m going to go
out there and eat it." "So go," I said, "but
take your clothes off first, go naked." She
looked at me as if I were insane, and then
she started to undress, and so did I.


Poesía Refrescante

Fué afortunado que por salir tarde de casa esta mañana, pude escuchar El Almanaque del Escritor de Garrison Keillor. Así, mientras manejaba a través de calles y carreteras, olvidaba las congestiones de tránsito con los sonidos saliendo de la radio los que imaginaba como lindas gemas llenas de información interesante y completa, aún cuando ésta ha sido resumida al máximo… quiero decir, Ernest Hemingway y James Tate, entre otros recordados el día de hoy podrían ser discutidos por horas, pero el mismo Keillor es un maestro cuando se trata de hablar de sus huéspedes en forma concisa pero todavía perceptiva.

Asi es como Tate regresó a mi memoria, un importante poeta norteamericano a quién no conocía hasta que tuve que tomar un curso de Literatura Norteamericana en la Universidad, acá en EEUU. Él escribe la poesía que prefiero, casi experimental, sorprendente, refrescante … él presenta momentos así como lo haría un fotografo tomando un encuadre de una imagen preciosa que deja suspendida en el tiempo. La Academia de Poetas Norteamericanos describe su poesía citando el comentario hecho por otro poeta, John Ashbery:

“El color del lugar juega un rol, pero el evento principal es la lucha del poeta con los momentos diáfanos, tratando frenéticamente de descubrir y preservar la poesía en ellos, aún siendo perecederos como lo son. Tate es el poeta de posibilidades, de morfa, de consecuencias sorprendentes, encantadoras o desastrosas, y estos fenómenos existen en todos lados… Regreso a los libros de Tate más a menudo que a los de otros tal vez , cuando quiero volver a recordar las posibilidades que ofrece la poesía.”

Sólo Para Sentirse Humano
(2001)

Una sola manzana creció en nuestro árbol, lo que
fue casi un milagro porque el arbol era un peral.
Caminamos alrededor de él rascandonos
la cabeza. “Quieres comerla?”, le pregunté
a mi esposa. “Moriría primero,” me contestó.
Entramos a la casa. Parado frente a la ventana
de la cocina le miraba. Pensé en Adán y Eva,
pero no creo en Adán y Eva. Mi esposa dijo, “si no paras de mirar
esa estúpida manzana, voy a salir alli a comerla.”
“Anda”, dije, “pero sácate la ropa primero, anda desnuda.”
Ella me miró como si yo estuviese demente, y entonces
comenzó a desvestirse, y yo también.

[*Traduje este poema con plena conciencia de que estaba destruyendole a medida que cambiaba las palabras del ingles al español, pero aún así, creo que la esencia del mismo se mantiene.]

Thursday, February 04, 2010

I Guess Is About Time

[Oil painting by Andres Zagal]

I guess it has been too long since I posted something on this blog... The oil painting above, I mean, a copy of the oil painting above, is right next to my computer at work. I have it there, so I can look at the bright and promising scene when I start to feel the need for fresh air. "If I walk that trail, I'll be at the beach"... I think. Well, supposedly, life is what we live now; it is not the past, it is not the future, but dreaming of walking in between those pine trees to go to the beach on the other side, is too deliciously appealing to me.

Imagino Que Ya Era Tiempo

Parece que ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que escribi algo en este blog... El oleo mas arriba, quiero decir, una copia del oleo mas arriba, esta situado al lado de mi ordenador en el trabajo. Lo tengo alli para poder mirar la escena tan brillante y prometedora cada vez que comienzo a sentir la necesidad de aire fresco. "Si camino por ese sendero, estare en la playa"... pienso. Bueno, supuestamente la vida es lo que vivimos ahora, no es el pasado, no es el futuro, pero soñar mis pasos entre esos pinos mientras desciendo a la playa, mas alla, es deliciosamente atractivo para mi.