{"id":56349,"date":"2023-06-02T08:38:56","date_gmt":"2023-06-02T15:38:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/eltecolote.org\/content\/?p=56349"},"modified":"2023-06-06T14:27:56","modified_gmt":"2023-06-06T21:27:56","slug":"poets-without-borders","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/eltecolote.org\/content\/en\/poets-without-borders\/","title":{"rendered":"Poets without borders"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Last week a Chilean actor and poet named Eric Polhammer died. When I read his poem \u201cYou\u201d, I loved it. Once again, I discovered an example of creativity trespassing all frontiers!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With a bit of \u201cpoetic license\u201d, I will share that poem. I made some minimal changes. As an example, the bus line where the poet and the woman travel, in my translation, is located in the Latino \u201cbarrios\u201d of San Francisco. Perhaps the most complex part is the word \u201cUsted.\u201d In Spanish, we use that word to denote respect. Respect towards someone we just met, or towards some older person. When trust is developed , we use the more colloquial \u201ct\u00fa\u201d. The profound essence of the poem remains untouched. Enjoy!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
YOU<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
by Eric Polhammer<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are riding a bus. The 14th<\/sup> Mission\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the 12th<\/sup> Folsom\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Or the one that goes on Bryant St.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are bored\u2026.worried\u2026or maybe happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not sure\u2026but for sure you are falling sleep!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2026after a long day at work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You think that your kids don\u2019t respect you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Or that it was good to break up with your <\/p>\n\n\n\n
ex-boyfriend, the jealous one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Although you still feel that you love him<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are not crying over him: <\/p>\n\n\n\n
You cry because you feel lonely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are pretty<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but today you look terrible<\/p>\n\n\n\n
according to your own decree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are me, now that you are writing,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but you don\u2019t know what to say, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
because you are not a writer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are a Capricorn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Still have not found something <\/p>\n\n\n\n
good to bite and grow with,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
except some corny thoughts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You no longer celebrate your birthday, as if<\/p>\n\n\n\n
those candles can\u2019t light happy thoughts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You feel unconsciously neurotic and<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the surrounding tension terribly affects you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Your name is Mar\u00eda Sep\u00falveda, or Gonz\u00e1lez.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Infinite nights without lovemaking!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Your ex-husband married your best friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He fell in-love with your face<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but you gained too much weight<\/p>\n\n\n\n
burying boredom and anguish<\/p>\n\n\n\n
with \u201cpork carnitas\u201d and sweet breads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes, you read bits of \u201cEl Tecolote\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was there where you found a poem like<\/p>\n\n\n\n
this one, for the first time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You pray to the Virgin of Guadalupe<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and say \u201cthe Lord be with you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I love you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am the only person who truly does<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and I know that you didn\u2019t want to get up<\/p>\n\n\n\n
this morning:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
an assault of bitter thoughts<\/p>\n\n\n\n
crashed into you, like the threat of a storm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You don\u2019t know that I know you,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
that you\u2019re wearing some torn black panties<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and that you have two molars that<\/p>\n\n\n\n
smell like two fetid widows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You don\u2019t know for whom to vote,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
if sometime you can actually vote,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018cause you don\u2019t know if you\u2019ll be alive<\/p>\n\n\n\n
if that chance ever comes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You used to love Don Francisco,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
don\u2019t know the cause<\/p>\n\n\n\n
of the French Revolution<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and you could not care less about it!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You went to Primary School #24, in Puebla,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and you only got to the Sixth Grade,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
because your father died of old age<\/p>\n\n\n\n
while he was still a young man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But you can recite the rosary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A while back I saw you <\/p>\n\n\n\n
seating on a green bench<\/p>\n\n\n\n
at La Raza Park<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked straight at you. You did not see me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You wore a black skirt and a <\/p>\n\n\n\n
light-blue sweater. A tiny copper cross<\/p>\n\n\n\n
hanged nicely on your neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, you got up, thoughtful,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
looking at the Jehovah\u2019s Witnesses<\/p>\n\n\n\n
threatening the world\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and you considered joining, but recalled<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the accordion of your evangelic ex-husband<\/p>\n\n\n\n
who always came home drunk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You felt disappointed with everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You even felt that the Holy Father was fake!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And you tried to kill yourself by tying up<\/p>\n\n\n\n
an over-ironed shirt sleeve to your neck<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2026but you had a vision of The Devil<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and got back as if nothing had happened<\/p>\n\n\n\n
to the reality of your room, where you have<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a single bed and a broken window<\/p>\n\n\n\n
through which the cold comes in winter<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and the mosquitoes in the heat of summer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
With renewed desires to start again<\/p>\n\n\n\n
you still await for that person<\/p>\n\n\n\n
who will truly love you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Man! Cooking oil is so expensive!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You ask, \u201cWhat\u2019s that verse doing there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The verse\u2019s there, \u2018cause oil is so expensive!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m always with you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At times, I even think that you are me<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and that I am you, with a different name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You like that guy Messi,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
even if he\u2019s Argentinian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A playful kid, like your son,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the one who left for Jalisco.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You cried for three months<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but now you calmed down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You know that you lost it all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes, a new life begins there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This poem might feel incompressible<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But you like it. You know there\u2019s love in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Once, you invited me to eat tamales.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Remember?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At times, you can\u2019t understand yourself!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You\u2019ve hardly finished the \u201cOur Father\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and you start thinking some mischief!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now you\u2019re tired of reading. You need<\/p>\n\n\n\n
new glasses! Those that you have are <\/p>\n\n\n\n
no good: they belonged to someone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When it rains, remember:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Someone\u2019s crying even harder than you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And when the rooster sun with a red crest<\/p>\n\n\n\n
appears, don\u2019t forget that I am happy<\/p>\n\n\n\n
that you are just the way you are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Translated by Carlos Bar\u00f3n<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\nIllustration: Bruno Ferreira<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Last week a Chilean actor and poet named Eric Polhammer died. When I read his poem \u201cYou\u201d, I loved it. Once again, I discovered an example of creativity trespassing all frontiers! With a bit of \u201cpoetic license\u201d, I will share that poem. I made some minimal changes. As an example, the bus line where the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":35,"featured_media":56351,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"newspack_popups_has_disabled_popups":false,"newspack_featured_image_position":"","newspack_post_subtitle":"by Carlos Bar\u00f3n","newspack_article_summary_title":"Overview:","newspack_article_summary":"","newspack_hide_updated_date":false,"newspack_show_updated_date":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3929],"tags":[23918],"coauthors":[18475],"class_list":["post-56349","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news-en","tag-poets-without-borders","entry"],"yoast_head":"\n
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