(A Sea at Dawn will be published by Eulalia Books in September 2022!)

 

 

 

 

Water is Born from Sand

 

I

 

It was a meaningless password
but you had to give it
to go outside
to cross the barrier
so it burned less.
It had one red feather like fire
and one leaf, green and fetid
The password made no sense
But those who gave it, got through.

 

II

 

They fell like dirty white birds
with short bangs
stuck to the sand
without blood, liars
the owners didn’t know what to do
and screamed. But they smiled in death
Torture of the air in a broken circus.

 

III

 

They came galloping without rest
flaying the afternoon dust
sweaty and crazy magnificent and lonely
they smelled danger all around
they split the air in two
and felt afraid.

 

IV

 

I have been waiting for a grave
of a kiss or suspended in a kiss
the telephone spinning my head
spinning pounding and pounding spinning
the gravedigger mad with fury or irony
000000000000carried on
000000000000called
000000000000howled violently in his anger
and the kiss melted the mouth in so much water
absent water
water without memory
of before
or perhaps possibly
of the other life.

 

V

 

How lonely the wave on this afternoon
how lonely it was
and how it broke
The sea—infinite—
without me there won’t be another
but it will be different
I won’t see its profound loneliness
and my wave won’t break the solitude.

 

VI

 

If you are to return in flower or pasture
If you return to life in flower
Your hair flying.
You turn and smile
Even now

 

VII

 

Who has or doesn’t have
my life
what you give to whom
your divine secret
the tree you don’t mention
the foot you don’t lift
Amorous life
measured music and you forget
you forget life
and pass us by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

De la arena nace el agua

 

I

 

Era una contraseña sin sentido
pero había que decirla
para salir afuera
para pasar la traba
para que ardiera menos.
Tenía una pluma roja como el fuego
y una hoja, verdosa y pestilente
la contraseña no tenía sentido
Pero los que la decían, pasaban.

 

II

Caían como pájaros blancuzcos
con el cerquillo corto
quedaban pegadas a la arena
sin sangre, mentirosas
los dueños no sabían qué hacer
y les gritaban. Pero ellas sonreían en la muerte
Tortura del aire en circo roto.

 

III

 

Venían galopando sin descanso
desollando el polvo de la tarde
sudorosos y locos magníficos y solos
olían el peligro en todas partes
abrían el aire en dos
y tenían miedo.

 

IV

 

Yo había estado pendiente de un sepulcro
de un beso o en un beso suspendida
el teléfono giraba la cabeza
giraba machacando y machacando giraba
el sepulturero loco de furia o de ironía
000000000000persistía
000000000000llamaba
000000000000aullaba violento entre su ira
y el beso deshacía la boca en muchas aguas
aguas ausentes
sin memoria
del antes
o el acaso quizá
de la otra vida.

 

V

 

Qué sola estaba la ola en esa tarde
qué sola estaba
y cómo reventaba
El mar –uno infinito–
sin mí no será otro
pero será distinto
yo no veré su soledad profunda
y él no reventará de soledad mi ola.

 

VI

Si has de volver en flor o pasto
Si vuelta a la vida en flor
Vuelas el pelo
Te das vuelta y sonríes
Todavía.

 

VII

 

Quién tiene o qué no tiene
vida mía
qué das a quién
tu divino secreto
el árbol que no dices
el pie que no levantas
Vida amorosa
acompasada música y te olvidas
te olvidas vida
y pasas por nosotros.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silvia Guerra (1961, Maldonado, Uruguay) is a Uruguayan poet, critic and editor whose books include Pulso (2011), Nada de nadie, (2001); Replicantes Astrales (1993), Idea de la aventura (1990); De la arena nace el agua (1986) and Fuera del relato (2007), a fictionalized biography of Lautréamont. She is a member of the executive board of the Mario Benedetti Foundation. She is the editor of the press La Madre de Borrego. In 2012 she was awarded the Morosoli Prize in Poetry for her career. Her selected poems Un mar en madrugado / A Sea at Dawn, translated by Jesse Lee Kercheval and Jeannine Marie Pitas, will be published by Eulalia Books in September, 2022.

Jesse Lee Kercheval is a poet, writer and translator, specializing in Uruguayan poetry. Her translations include The Invisible Bridge: Selected Poems of Circe Maia and Love Poems by Idea Vilariño, both published by the University of Pittsburgh Press. She was awarded a fellowship at the Banff International Literary Translation Centre for her work on Silvia Guerra.

Jeannine Marie Pitas is a poet and the translator of the Uruguayan poet Marosa di Giorgio, including I Remember Nightfall and The History of Violets, both published by Ugly Duckling Presse and Carnation and Tenebrae Candle (Cardboard House Press, 2020).  Her other recent translations include We Do Not Live In Vain (Veliz Books, 2020) by Uruguayan poet Selva Casal.

 

Poesía en acción is an Action Books blog feature for Latin American and Spanish poetry in translation and the translator micro-interview series. It was created by Katherine M. Hedeen and is currently curated and edited by Olivia Lott with web editing by Paul Cunningham.