Día Mundial de Poesía' Un poema de Julio Cortázar

Ayer, el 21 de marzo era el Día Mundial de la Poesía. Elegí presentar cinco poemas de Julio Cortázar para que la poesía hable sin la intervención de afuera. Espero que el año que viene no tengamos que explicar porque necesitamos la poesía. Ακολουθεί μετάφραση του ποιήματος στα ελληνικά.

Otros cinco poemas para Cris
 

1.
Todo lo que precede es como los primeros
momentos de un
encuentro después de mucho tiempo: sonrisas,
preguntas,
lentos reajustes. Es raro, me pareces menos
morena que
antes. ¿Se mejoró por fin tu tía abuela? No, no
me gusta
la cerveza. Es verdad, me había olvidado.
Y por debajo, montacargas de sombra, asciende
despacio otro
presente. En tu pelo empiezan a temblar las
abejas, tu mano
roza la mía y pone en ella un dulce algodón
de humo. Hueles
de nuevo a sur.   

2.
Tienes a ratos
la cara del exilio
ese que busca voz en tus poemas.

Mi exilio es menos duro,
le sobran las defensas,
pero cuando te llevo de la mano
por una callecita de París
quisiera tanto que el paseo se acabara
en una esquina de Motevideo
o en mi calle Corrientes

sin que nadie viniera
a pedir documentos.

3.
A veces creo que podríamos
conciliar los contrarios
hallar la centritud inmóvil de la rueda
salir de lo binario
ser el vertiginoso espejo que concentra
en un vértice último
esta ceremoniosa danza que dedico
a tu presente ausencia.

Recuerdo a Saint-Exupéry: "El amor
no es mirar lo que se ama
sino mirar los dos en una misma dirección".

Pero él no sospechó que tantas veces
los dos mirábamos fascinados a una misma mujer
y que la espléndida, feliz definición
se viene al suelo como un gris pelele. 

4.
Creo que no te quiero,
que solamente quiero la imposibilidad
tan obvia de quererte
como la mano izquierda
enamorada de ese guante
que vive en la derecha.


5.
Ratoncito, pelusa, medialuna,
calidoscopio, barco en la botella,
musgo, campana, diáspora,
palingenesia, helecho,

eso y el dulce de zapallo,
el bandoneón de Troilo y dos o tres
zonas de piel en donde
hace nido el alción,

son las palabras que contienen
tu cruel definición inalcanzable,
son las cosas que guardan las sustancias
de que estás hecha para que alguien
beba y posea y arda convencida.
de conocerte entera, 
de que sólo eres Cris.

Άλλα πέντε ποιήματα για την Κρις
1.
Όλα όσα προηγούνται είναι σαν τις πρώτες
στιγμές μιας συνάντησης μετά από πολύ χρόνο: χαμόγελα,
ερωτήσεις,
μακρές αναπροσαρμογές. Είναι παράξενο, μου φαίνεσαι λιγότερο
μελαχρινή από
πριν. Καλυτέρεψε τελικά η γιαγιά θεία σου; Όχι, όχι
δε μου αρέσει η μπίρα. Είναι αλήθεια, το είχα ξεχάσει.
Και από κάτω, αναβατόριο από σκιά, ανεβαίνει
αργά άλλο
παρόν. Στα μαλλιά σου ξεκινούν να τρέμουν
Οι μέλισσες. Το χέρι σου
δροσίζει το δικό μου και βάζει σε αυτό γλυκό βαμβάκι
από καπνό. Μυρίζεις
ξανά νότο.

2.
Έχεις κάποιες στιγμές
το πρόσωπο της εξορίας
αυτό που ψάχνει φωνή στα ποιήματά σου.
Η εξορία μου είναι λιγότερο σκληρή,
της περισσεύουν οι άμυνες,
αλλά όταν σου παίρνω από το χέρι σε κάποιο δρομάκι στο Παρίσι
θα ήθελα τόσο να τέλειωνε η βόλτα
σε κάποια γωνιά του Μοντεβίδεο
ή στο δρόμο μου Κορριέντες

χωρίς να έρθει κάποιος
να ζητήσει χαρτιά.

3.
Κάποιες φορές πιστεύω ότι θα μπορούσαμε
να συμφιλιώσουμε τα αντίθετα
να βρούμε το ακίνητο κέντρο του τροχού
να βγούμε από το δυαδικό
να είμαστε ο ιλιγγιώδης καθρέφτης που συγκεντρώνει
σε μια έσχατη κορφή
αυτό τον τελετουργικό χορό που αφιερώνω
στην παρούσα σου απουσία.
Θυμάμαι τον Σαιντ-Εξυπερύ: «Ο έρωτας
δεν είναι να κοιτάς αυτό που αγαπάς
αλλά να βλέπουν και οι δύο προς την ίδια κατεύθυνση».

Αλλά εκείνος δεν υποπτεύθηκε πως τόσες φορές
Και οι δύο βλέπαμε εντυπωσιασμένοι την ίδια γυναίκα
και ότι ο λαμπρός, ευτυχισμένος ορισμός
πέφτει στο πάτωμα σαν ένα γκρίζο ανδρείκελο.

4.
Πιστεύω ότι δεν σε αγαπώ
ότι απλώς αγαπώ την απιθανότητα
την τόσο φανερή του να σε αγαπώ
όπως το αριστερό χέρι
είναι ερωτευμένο με εκείνο το γάντι
που ζει στο δεξί.

5.
Ποντικάκι, χνούδι, μισοφέγγαρο,
καλειδοσκόπιο, πλοίο στην μπουκάλα,
βρύα, καμπάνα, διασπορά
παλιγγενεσία, φτέρη

αυτό και το γλυκό από κολοκύθα,
και το μπαντονεόν  του Τρωίλου και δύο ή τρεις
ζώνες από δέρμα όπου
φτιάχνει τη φωλιά της η αλκυόνα,

είναι οι λέξεις που περιέχουν
τον σκληρό άφταστο ορισμό σου,
είναι τα πράγματα που φυλάν τις ουσίες
από τις οποίες είσαι φτιαγμένη για να μπορεί κάποιος
να πιει και να κατέχει και να καίγεται πεπεισμένος.
πως σε γνωρίζει ολάκερη,
πως είσαι μόνο η Κρις.

Poesía y deconstrucción

El poeta, desnudo,

Cuelga una percha en un árbol perdido

Y las palabras van

Al poema a vestirse.

Aurora Luque, “La Deconstrucción o el amor”, Camaradas de Ícaro

Según los teoréticos de la deconstrucción, el uso de las palabras las constituye contaminadas. Parece que tienen razón. Es que la vida con sus necesidades y problemas cotidianos contamina la lengua, la cambia.

Tree of Words by Helldren

Entonces, la poesía tiene que usar un material contaminado, usado para nimiedades cada día por todos los hablantes de una lengua. Y además, el poeta tiene que elevar esas palabras para crear algo sublime y mágico que pueda afectar los sentimientos e inspirar.

No obstante, los pintores, los músicos, los escultores usan materiales originales para producir arte. Por eso, se puede sugerir que su trabajo no es tan difícil como lo de los poetas.

Y como dice Aurora Luque, el poeta tiene que desnudarse para dar vestidos a las palabras.

Μια Κυριακή των Βαΐων

Σαν σήμερα, Κυριακή των Βαΐων οι Μεσολογγίτες αποφάσισαν να κάνουν την ηρωική τους έξοδο και να σπάσουν τον πολιορκητικό κλοιό των Τούρκων. Τον Απρίλιο του 1826, και πιο συγκεκριμένα τη νύχτα της 10^ης Απριλίου, οι Μεσολογγίτες αποφάσισαν ότι είχε φτάσει ο καιρός να βγούν από την πόλη.

Η ιστορία κατέγραψε τα γεγονότα της πολιορκίας του Μεσολογγίου αλλά η ποίηση, και πιο συγκεκριμένα η ποίηση του Διονυσίου Σολωμού σκιαγράφησε το ηθικό μεγαλείο των Μεσολογγιτών απέναντι στις προκλήσεις και τις αντιξοότητες.

Για εμάς, ωστόσο, αυτό το παρελθόν μοιάζει μάλλον εξιδανικευμένο και απόμακρο. Και αλήθεια, είναι ως ένα βαθμό εξωραϊσμένο˙ η τέχνη έχει την τάση να εξυψώνει.

Όμως, η ανάγκη διατήρησης της εσωτερικής ελευθερίας υπάρχει ακόμα και σήμερα. Και αυτό είναι το μήνυμα των  «Ελεύθερων Πολιορκημένων», ότι δηλαδή η εσωτερική ελευθερία είναι το στοιχείο που δίνει στην ανθρώπινη ζωή αξία. Έτσι, νομίζω ότι ο ποιητής του Αγώνος έχει κάτι να μας πει και σήμερα. Μας συμβουλεύει να παραμείνουμε εσωτερικά ανεξάρτητοι, όπως ακριβώς παρότρυναν και οι στωικοί φιλόσοφοι με έναν κάπως πιο αυστηρό τρόπο βέβαια.

Αλλά ακόμη κι αν αδιαφορεί κανείς για το πιο πάνω μήνυμα του ποιήματος, αξίζει να συνεχίσει την ανάγνωση γιατί θα πάρει από το έργο του Σολωμού εξαιρετικά παραδείγματα γλωσσικής αρμονίας, γλαφυρότητας και παραστατικότητας.

Σας αφήνω με ένα από τα πιο περιγραφικά αποσπάσματα από τους Ελεύθερους Πολιορκημένους. Στο συγκεκριμένο απόσπασμα οι Μεσολογγίτες αποφασίζουν να ηχήσουν τις σάλπιγγες για να συγκαλέσουν την πόλη σε συμβούλιο και να εμψυχώσουν ο ένας τον άλλο. Στο προηγούμενο χωρίο περιγράφεται η ομορφιά της φύσης την άνοιξη, ένας πειρασμός για τους Μεσολογγίτες που τους προκαλεί ακόμα μεγαλύτερη θλίψη όταν αναλογίζονται ότι ο θάνατος είναι κοντά.

Η σάλπιγγα ηχεί μα αδύναμη και εξασθενημένη. Οι Τούρκοι περιγελούν τους Μεσολογγίτες και ηχούν τη δική τους σάλπιγγα για να κάμψουν το ηθικό των πολιορκημένων.

«Σάλπιγγα, κοψ’ του τραγουδιού τα μάγια με τή βία,
γυναικός, γέροντος, παιδιού, μήν κόψουν την αντρεία».

Χαμένη, αλίμονο, κι οκνή τη σάλπιγγα γρικάει·
αλλά πώς φθάνει στον εχθρό και καθ’ ηχώ ξυπνάει;
Γέλιο στο σκόρπιο στράτευμα σφοδρό γεννοβολιέται,
κι η περιπαίχτρα σάλπιγγα μεσουρανίς πετιέται·
και με χαρούμενη πνοή το στήθος το χορτάτο,
τ' αράθυμο, το δυνατό, κι όλο ψυχές γιομάτο,
βαρώντας γύρου ολόγυρα, ολόγυρα και πέρα,
τον όμορφο τρικύμισε καί ξάστερον αέρα·

τέλος μακριά σέρνει λαλιά, σαν το πεσούμεν’ άστρο,
τρανή λαλιά, τρόμου λαλιά, ρητή κατά το κάστρο.

Το συγκεκριμένο απόσπασμα έχει μια ξεχωριστή αρμονία, τόσο σε ρητορικά σχήματα όσο και στον τρόπο που δημιουργεί ηχητικές εικόνες σμίγοντας τον ήχο με την εικόνα, δίνοντας κίνηση στο χωρίο και ρυθμό με διάφορες παρηχήσεις που αναπαράγουν τον ήχο της σάλπιγγας.

Ιδιαιτέρως οι τελευταίοι στίχοι έχουν ένα ξεχωριστό άκουσμα και διαπλέκουν τα ρητορική σχήματα με τρόπο εξαιρετικό. Για παράδειγμα, η αναδίπλωση και παρήχηση του ρ στο «βαρώντας γύρου ολόγυρα, ολόγυρα και πέρα» ή η εικόνα του πεφταστεριού σε συνάρτηση με την παρήχηση του ρ και την επανάληψη της λέξης «λαλιά» στον τελευταίο στίχο «τρανή λαλιά, τρόμου λαλιά, ρητή κατά το κάστρο» δίνουν στο απόσπασμα κίνηση και δημιουργούν μια αίσθηση απειλής.

Ovid and some ideas about life

Ovid by Luca Signorelli

“Quid mihi cum facili” says the Roman poet Ovid in the 19^th elegy of the second book of his work Amores which translates: “Why would I bother with the easy one?” Ovid here talks about his lover’s husband and insists that he keeps his loved one locked making his courtship difficult. Now, a logical person would definitely object to this mentality. Is Ovid serious? Why would anyone say that?

The poet-lover was supposedly locked out
The famous topos of the exclusus amator 

Well, Ovid is partly serious: he is never completely serious; it’s simply not his style. The entire poem talks about the necessity of difficulties in a clandestine love affair which inspires poetry, simply because 1^st century BC Roman elegy, the genre of the Amores, had a certain set of conventions. One of them is that the domina, the loved one, is fickle and does not always respond to the poet-lover’s expressions of admiration. The poet-lover then crying records his hardships, argues with doorsteps and talks to the winds remembering myths and stories.

Ovid was the last famous and noteworthy Roman elegist. And this is not a coincidence, we Classicists think: Ovid in his entire work reworks all the conventions of the genre by ridiculing them and finally deconstructing them. This is a quite recent discovery of scholars even though it is quite evident at some parts of his work that he cannot be serious. Now, we are sure that for the most part he is not serious.

His witty work has troubled us very much but I guess this must have been 

Callimachus

one of his goals. Ovid and the other elegists followed the artistic doctrines of Hellenistic poet Callimachus. They chose to compose short works—at least shorter than the epic poems of Homer and Vergil—which were very carefully worked like jewels. They used to call their work “labor limae”, the labor of the file. The poetic process according to the Callimachean ideal and also antiquity’s ideas in general had to be laborious and difficult. Exactly as Ovid says in elegy 2.19, the love affair and therefore the poetic work have to be difficult. That is why the aforementioned elegy is a covert programmatic poem.

The elegies, these small jewels were very difficult to compose not only because they were art but also because they had to be original. Their originality is not obvious to a modern audience but we must have in mind that during that time writers were trying to imitate older works, especially the Homeric epics. The elegists were not. On the contrary they were creating a new tradition following Hellenistic ideas.

Callimachus, of course, pointed out that imitating Homer was quite impossible as he was the first poet and therefore his work was insuperable. Aspiring authors, nevertheless, would flood the libraries of the great kingdoms of the ancient world which held manuscripts of all the works known until then trying to imitate them or copy sections. That was the time Classical philology was born, but we’ll talk about that another time. 

So, as we were saying,  Roman elegists—for various reasons— preferred to have it the difficult way just like Hercules chose the difficult path of Virtue. I cannot help but wonder: is this the only way to succeed? Well, I guess, it must be if the Classics say so.

Hercules at the Crossroads by Annibale Carracci

However, others have demonstrated an easy, primrose path to success reminding us that there are some detours. Of course, if you are willing to take the detour you might end up having trouble or even worse suffer remorse. And let’s not forget that these are probably the people who created financial bubbles and economic collapses of entire countries leading a lot of people to impoverishment.

Then, I suggest that we might have to refresh our Classics and follow their advice to avoid easy choices.

A poem about Eros

Las dudas de Eros

Montale: los limones fulgentes, entrevistos

en un patio de invierno:

le trombe d´oro della solaritá.

No quiero más palabras para eros.

Dejadlo mudo: no crezca su lengua.

No ciego: vea, cante y aprenda con los ojos.

No le des más palabras.

Si lo metes en cartas, en versos o en susurros

de alta noche,

lo desangras,

lo pudres, lo embalsamas.

No tenga voz, y viva

Como los limoneros de Montale.

Aurora Luque, Camaradas de Ícaro, Madrid: Visor Libros, 2003.

In this poem Aurora Luque,a Spanish poet and Classicist, speaks about the necessity to silence Eros, love.

I think that this poem is what we need now, a day after “the day of love” which turned out to be the day when we talk about love or the day when capitalism hopes to increase its revenue exploiting love.

So, against my better judgment and usual practice I´ll translate the poem for those who do not speak Spanish— or don´t like Google translate.

The doubts of Eros

Montale: the lemons brilliant, hazy

in a winter garden:

le trombe d’ oro della solaritá.

I don’t want more words for eros.

Let him be mute: do not let his tongue grow.

Not blind: let him see, sing and learn with the eyes.

Don’t give him more words.

If you put him in cards, in verse or in whispers

of elevated nights,

you bleed him dry,

you rot him, you embalm him.

Let him not have a voice and live

Like the admired lemon trees of Montale.  

As a comparatist I have to mention that Eugenio Montale to whom Luque refers to is an Italian Nobel prize winner who wrote the poem Lemons which you can find translated in English here.

Also, as I read it, I remembered Shakespeare’s “Speak low if you speak love” from the play Much Ado about Nothing Act 2 Scene 1. 

Luque seems to disagree with the Bard, or if she doesn’t disagree she points out that we’ve exhausted everything there is to say about eros. 

 

What do you think?

Sappho, a poet

Roman copy of Sappho's Bust, Musei Capitolini

Sappho is the first female writer in Europe. She is the Homer for female writers. 

All women writers have been described as “the daughters of Sappho” in a book of Margaret Williamson Sappho’s Immortal Daughters*. 

But who is Sappho? You’ve definitely heard of her, especially in relation to female homoeroticism, but do you feel you have a clear image of this poet?

Sappho lived in the small island of Lesbos in the 6^th century B.C in a world of aristocrats, where the term “lesbian” meant a woman from Lesbos. She also lived in a world where women were not confined in attics and didn’t have to convict themselves in order to write—as female authorship is described in Gubar and Gilbert’s book The Madwoman in the Attic. She was a poet, a female poet who was respected by the community of Lesbos as she was asked to write wedding songs (epithalamia) and hymns for the gods.

Sappho reading to her companions, Attic Vase 435 BC.

Many said that she probably didn’t exist. Some said that the cloud of mystery surrounding her makes studying her life even more difficult. Through the centuries we acquired a twisted image of this woman. She became legend; Ovid even includes her letter in his work Heroides where famous mythological women address their lovers (Her. Ep.XV). Sappho is the only historical person included in this fictitious letters collection of Ovid. So, we infer that even in antiquity (1^st century BC) she was already legend.

But what can we really know about her? What facts do we have regarding Sappho? Well, for starters she wrote some poems. Poems about love, life, death, beauty, travels, fears, solitude, separation, religion and old age. And her poems are not very different from the poems of other lyric poets, like her fellow-islander Alcaeus or Anacreon.

Secondly, we know that she talks about some women in her poetry. Women who are in love with other women. Women who desire and women who are desired. She also shows how the loved one desires and therefore disrupts the usual “male gaze” objectification problems we encounter in other love poems.

Sappho and Alcaeus, Attic red-figure vase by Brygos painter c470 BC
Interestingly Sappho is depicted here like all other poets and not as a legendary figure.

Now, as far as the hot question regarding Sappho is concerned—i.e. was she a homosexual? —the only safe answer is: we cannot know. We cannot know with certainty whether Sappho was a homosexual as we would define today a woman who falls in love with women. In addition, we cannot know whether Sappho had homoerotic relationships since there is no historic evidence about her life, only legends and poetry which are not to be trusted completely. Also we cannot safely assume that through her poetry she served a more public purpose: i.e. we cannot know if she really had homoerotic relationships in an institutionalized way like male aristocrats had in early ancient Greek societies.

We could say though with certainty, that the idea of homosexuality that we have today is quite modern—a 19^th century concept according to Foucault. So strictly speaking, Sappho was not gay. As far as the question of the institutionalization of homoerotic relationships is concerned, we have to have in mind the differences between male and female homoeroticism. Men used homoeroticism as an initiation rite; the boy had to be passive and receptive of the older man’s authority and political wisdom in early aristocratic Greek societies. Women, on the other hand, cannot physically have a submissive- assertive homoerotic experience because there is no penetration in their homoerotic practices. Hence, female homoerotic relationships were completely different from the ones of men and could not serve the same purposes—if they ever served a purpose.

Then, the only fact that we have is that the poetry of a respected female poet of Lesbos refers to female homoerotic desire. So it could be inferred that homoeroticism or homoerotic desire was acceptable in a certain-- unknown to us-- context. (Many scholars have tried to reconstruct this context, but I’m afraid there is hardly any evidence to prove that the women in Sappho’s poetry existed).

Sappho and Alcaeus by Lawrence Alma-Tadema

 So, having that cleared up, let’s proceed to the more interesting stuff, Sappho’s poetry. I particularly like the fact that Sappho keeps it simple in her poetry. She does not describe the loved one. There is no reference to the desired woman’s appearance or characteristics. And there is no fragmentation of the body—you know that usual practice of male poets to talk about beautiful eyes or luscious legs. On the contrary, Sappho describes the effect the loved one’s presence has. She mentions “her lovely step” or the sound of her laughter. Beautiful, translucent moments of perfection and love fill her poetry with the magical sensation of the presence of a special loved one.

For example, in the famous fragment 16, the poetic voice talks about how “whatever one desires” is the best for that person. The subjectivity of human taste is the central idea of the fragment as a philosophical approach of life. The following extract describes the young Anactoria but not in terms a male author would describe someone beautiful or desired.

And I recall Anactoria, whose sweet step[…]

Or that flicker of light on her face,

I’d rather see than Lydian chariots

Or the armed ranks of the hoplites.

And here is Eros, the little mischief maker

Another prominent subject of her poetry—if not the most important one-- is Eros. Eros, the personification of love has a central place in Sapphic poetry. But love not as romantic “lovey-dovey”-I-will-love-you-forever love we have in mind. No sighs or letters or poems of the Romantics can be found in ancient Greek thought. Love for the ancient Greeks as Eros was serious business. It was violent, like the wind. Eros in philosophy is the desire to live, to learn (See Plato Symposium 203b-204c).

Here is what Sappho says on Eros:

Love shook my heart,

Like the wind on the mountain

Troubling the oak-trees.

It’s like the violent wind or like a serpent that no one can escape from as she writes:

Eros, again now, the loosener of limbs troubles me,

Bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable serpent….

I cannot think of a better description of falling in love and being nonsensical than Sappho’s poems. In fragment 31 she describes erotic desire as a disease and in the famous fragment 1—the prayer to Aphrodite—she talks about the torment one goes through when their love is unrequited.

   

Sappho painted by John William Godward

So, my point is that even though we can know very little on Sappho and her life, we can know the basics which are the most important. No poet has been so sensitive towards the nature of love and life—at least before her. And we should be grateful we still have these beautiful poems to read. Summing up, I hope I answered the question “Who is Sappho?”. Sappho is a poet. She could be described as a poet of love. A Lesbian poet if you like, or rather a poet from Lesbos.

For her full translated works in a literary way see the Loeb edition http://www.amazon.co.uk/Greek-Lyric-Alcaeus-Classical-Library/dp/0674991575, or if you prefer the easy way just Google. 

I would recommend this one as it is closer to the original http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Greek/Sappho.htm#_Toc76357041

*Sappho's Immortal Daughters by Margaret Williamson can be found 

http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674789135.