THURSDAY, August 15, 2013
This past Sunday I received a list of three dozen poems that Jose Rico and Robin Myers have proposed as the core of a book of poems to be translated into Spanish and published in Mexico. I first heard about the possibility of this project a couple months ago through Jose Rico, who has already translated some of my poems for a magazine called Circulo de Poesia. I have had other translators work on my writing over the years, but this is the largest scale on which this kind of work has ever occurred.
I have to confess that it feels a bit odd having a collection of my poems being translated into another language. It’s not that I haven’t written during the past 45 years with the hope of such a book appearing in my lifetime. I have found too much encouragement during my life from poets in other languages not to hope that my own writing might be able to do the same for a poet in another country. When I consider how many other poets are deserving of this honor, I’m somewhat surprised that my poems have managed to become the focus of a translator’s imagination. The list of poets with whom I have read at the Idyllwild Poetry Festival would certainly provide any aspiring translator with a score of equally worthy candidates:
Chris Abani
Ellen Bass
Christopher Buckley
Lucille Clifton
Wanda Coleman
Brendan Constantine
Richard Garcia
Eloise Klein Healy
Yusef Komunyakaa
Suzanne Lummis
Tom Lux
Harryette Mullen
Marilyn Nelson
Naomi Shihab Nye
Holly Prado
Doren Robbins
Aleida Rodriguez
Natasha Tretheway
Cecilia Woloch
Robert Wrigley
I hope all of my comrades can someday experience my excitement at the onset of this translation of my poems. Something must be astir in regards to my writing because I also recently received an e-mail from Zachary Payne in Spain, who spontaneously decided to translate some of my poems into Spanish. With his permission I am posting them on today’s entry. His translations are followed by the list that Jose and Robin sent me of their first pick of my work.
(translations by Zachary Payne)
three poems from Bittersweet Kaleidoscope
tres poemas del Bittersweet Kaleidoscope
THE ORIGINS THAT MEMORY CONSIDERS
Objects linger when they move,
unaware of the day´s alignment
between your death and mine.
LOS ORIGENES QUE LA MEMORIA CONSIDERA
Objetos persisten cuando se mueven,
ignorantes del alineamiento del día
entre tu muerte y la mía.
WEIGHT
My brain weighs the world and the world weighs stones
and rocks and trees. I know the world weighs more,
but my legs and back and neck insist raindrops
hanging from the needletips of a pine tree-
one I stood beside twenty years ago-are heavier
than thought, which adds no more weight to its origin
than a flower to a bee passing over damp petals.
Mysticism exaggerates, but so does the literal.
And to think the truth is in between
ignores the abyss that holds them apart.
PESO
Mi cerebro pesa el mundo y el mundo pesa piedras
y rocas y árboles. Sé que el mundo pesa más,
pero mis piernas y espalda y cuello insisten gotas de lluvia
colgando desde las agujas verdes de un pino-
uno que paré al lado hace veinte años-son más pesados
que pensamientos, que no incrementan el peso de su origen
que una flor a la avispa volando sobre pétalos húmedos.
El misticismo exagera, pero también lo hace lo literal.
Y pensar que la verdad está entre medio
e ignora el abismo que los mantiene separados.
ONE MIRACLE
For Bob Flanagan
Stunned by tequila from the night before,
I remember poking at embers as dawn
puffed its mist into a clearing. Bob sang
and coughed, sang and coughed. Even then,
I wondered how much longer he had.
Every time his body jerked, I winced.
I loved his improvised, contaminated genius.
Tonight he´s in the hospital again, alone,
and this poem is like a waitress who deserves
a big tip-half the bill-for telling me
it´s time to stop drinking coffee and drive over
and rescue him, perform the one miracle
I´m allowed in this life, but I´m not,
because Bob´s not the one I´m supposed to save.
EL MILAGRO
Para Bob Flanagan
Atontado por el tequila de anoche,
recuerdo atizando las cenizas mientras el amanecer
sopló su vaho en un claro. Bob cantó
y tosió, cantó y tosió. Aún entonces,
me preguntaba cuánto tiempo más tenía.
Cada vez que su cuerpo sacudió, me agonizaba.
Me encantaba su improvisado, contaminado genio.
Esta noche está en el hospital de nuevo, solo,
y este poema es como una camarera que merece
una propina grande-la mitad del cuento-por decirme
es hora de dejar de tomar café e ir
y salvarle, hacer el único milagro
que me es permitido en esta vida, pero no,
porque Bob no es él quien yo debería salvar.
POEMS CHOSEN BY JOSE RICO AND ROBIN MYERS
BILL MOHR – New & Selected Poems (1978-2012)
From The Headwaters of Nirvana
Why the Heart Never Develops Cancer
Cro-Magnon
Dream Drain
The Bump
Wrinkles
Ars poetica
The curiosity of Marlene K. Section 7
Compared to what
The restoration
The trolley problem
The foot bridges
Death’s real job
One miracle
Complexities
Real days off
The ghoul convention
Reincarnation slaughterhouse
In the ocean of nothingness
The headwaters of Nirvana
From Poems from the 1980s
The Ambiguity of Motion
Naked chef
From Hidden Proofs
Vallejo
What allowed me to live to see this cat?
Scorpio in the summer
After rain
From Bitersweet Kaleidoscope
Milk
Weight
After many years of love
Bittersweet Kaleidoscope
The origins that memory considers
An answer
The offering
Elegy for Roy Orbinson
Eye chart for an orbiting space station
On the poetry of barbarians
How to quit writing poetry
About Bill Mohr