Index Global Poetry Net-Action

Mercedes Roffé

 

A Stroll

Love poem in twelve tongues

 

 

 

Ombres curtes

Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges

Recomandabil este s|-Ûi g|seÕti

poziÛia cea mai comod|. De exemplu:

Under rennestensristene,

under de skimlete murkjellere,

under lindealléenes fuktige røtter

og parkplenene.          

Ao longo da muralha que habitamos

há palavras de vida há palavras de morte

Will we stroll all night through solitary

streets? The trees add shade to shade...

Queste selve oggi ragionar d'Amore

udranno in nuova guisa:

 

Schöne Geliebte,

mein Baum,

dir im Gezweig

hoch mit offener Schläfe

gegen den Mond

schlaf ich, begraben

in meine Flügel.

 

 

Brief shadows 

Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges

What's most advisable is finding

the right position. For example,

under the gutters

under the dirty basements

under the poplar grove's humid roots

and the lawn of the parks.

Along the walls we dwell

there's talk of life there's talk of death

Will we stroll all night through solitary

streets? The trees add shade to shade…

forest which today will hear Love

debated in a new way:

 

Dearly beloved

tree of mine

in the tall frond

I dream you

with an open temple

toward the moon

buried in my wings.


                        O:

Amigo el que yo más quería...

 

                        Or:

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted

Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion...

 

                        Ou:

Detente, sombra de mi bien esquivo.

 

 

Unu wiqellan

apariwan

 

 

partout             dans l'ombre verte                                          

partout             oiseaux chantent

 

            tiatia  tia  touloulou

            tututu  uhuhuhuhuhuh

            toulouloutou  toulou

 

                                    (A chaque espèce

                                              son espace)                               

 

Every port has its name for the sea

Every hour... its attendant Spirit        

 

Pero aínda no sabemos

de que banda vai chegar a meia-noite

 

 

                        Or

Friend, the one I care for most

 

                        Or

 A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion...

 

                        Or

Halt, evasive shadow of mine

 

 

 I let the stream of these loving waters

carry me

 

 

everywhere                      in the green shades

 

everywhere                      birds sing

 

            tiatia tia touloulou

            tututu  uhuhuhuhuhuh

            toulouloutou toulou

                                   

                                     (To every species

                                     its own space)

 

Every port has its name for the sea

Every hour... its attendant Spirit

 

But we don't know from where

midnight will come



On the composition of the text

 

 

 

     This work was composed as a cadavre exquis, except that the co-authors are poets from different periods, languages and countries brought together by an act of reading. They are: * Andreu Cloquell (Catalan, 1), * Elizabeth Bishop (English, 2), * S. T. Doinas (Rumanian, 3-4), * Rolf Jacobsen (Norwegian, 5-8), * Mário Cesariny de Vasconcelos (Portuguese, 9-10), * Allen Ginsberg (English, 11-12), * Torcuato Tasso (Italian, 13-14), * Johannes Bobrowski (German, 15-20), Anon. (Spanish, 22), * William Shakespeare (English, 24-25), Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (Spanish, 27), Anon. (Quechua, 18-29), Josée Lapeyrere (French and bird song, 30-34), Louise Herlin (French, 35-36), * W. H. Auden (English, 37), H.D. (English, 38), and * Manoel Antonio (Galician, 39-40).

   

     In the main, the text follows the order in which 11 of the authors (those noted with *) appeared in the Spanish poetry journal Hora de poesía (vols. 16-17 and 4-5). Into that structure, I intercalated texts by six others.

 

     Two possible epigraphs--two texts which caught my eyes just after finishing "A Stroll," establishing their own relationship with it:

 

 

            As the boundaries of the state are breached by international radio forces, the boundaries of the poem, the line, the word, the text are extended beyond any individual tongue to all discourse, even no-human discourse.

                                                James Sherry, "The Boundaries of Poetry." In Charles Bernstein (ed.), The Politics of Poetic Form. Poetry and Public Policy. New York: Roof, 1990, p. 229.

 

            The bureaucratic rationalism of death stamps the camp into a hierarchical and rigid order.... The prohibitions are innumerable and the rites profuse and senseless. In this order, ubiquitous signs admonish hygiene and ethics. One message heads all the corridors: Arbeit Macht Frei -- Work gives Freedom.

               The number of different languages, and the numbing depression that is the unshakeable companion of the inmates makes organized resistance difficult. Resistance is manifest in its most shrunken form --the muffled will not die.

                                                Erica Hunt, ibid. p. 209.