Guillermo Morales Sillas

tiveposts:

aanimalario:

Translation of Guillermo Morales Sillas' poem:
The Heavens and Earth are Horse-Lipped

The day is ham-colored outside
and there are bilious clouds
above the wall-stripped place.
The sun, proleptic, procrastinates
and the street overflows with species
whose urine the asphalt doesn’t drain.
The blessing is indistinct, en masse.
   The dust, superior trapping.
It’s so beautiful that they make you want to
stomp that which is moral and beautiful,
I swear to you there are, without appointment, meek waiting,
jackasses at the doors of the kebab joint.
What do the animals occupying the avenue
paint
   when slaughter is just another word
but they hang pennants, January sounds in the bells,
and the orange-trees lining the street err.
You only know that you’re happy
enough to divvy out beans—you who has not grazed
nor owned a dog—thinking
you’d give up your kingdom
to know the parasitic world like the back of your hand
and craft yourself a yurt of strong jawbones
—you who’s not eaten thistles.
In mane you see cosmogony, think that you live
in the middle of a snout, a
ball of shaken snow.
“We’re barley in this gigantic stomach”


As a disclaimer, this translation is not my best. Or, it doesn’t come close to doing this poem justice, which makes me nervous. It’s a genius poem, where the concepts of animal and human are bounced off one another and the text sprinkled with animal and plant-derived epithets that do not all move easily into English. Some of these I have maintained, and others are the casualties of translation: lost patients. I think my weaknesses as a translator are brought out by this poem, and I hope in the future I can develop my style and dare to stray just slightly beyond the text, lose fewer patients. In the meantime, my apologies to the reader and to Mr. Guillermo Morales Sillas and his beautiful poem.

Eba Reiro

ciudadesesqueleto:

Translation of Eba Reiro’s poem “Estación Central de Bremen”:

Bremen Central Station

Morning is full of crazies,

night full of fires.

The crazies talk alone in the morning,

fresh and covered in dew like roses,

reproducing the sounds of the crazy,

stammering and asking for cigarettes,

shining, children of the new hours.

They see snow snowing on snow

watching the natural colors

of things.

And they give the days their own names:

yesterday was Baguette, Thursday

Metallic, and today will be Happy Grey.

They run in packs and shout threats at one another

and are at each other’s throats, and later they play.

The crazies make love at

ten a.m., and while they fuck

they tell each other their problems and destinies and childhoods

looking each other in the eyes and speaking softly

like the sane do

and afterwards they come.

The butterfly fled and we were hungry
that’s why the color green scares you
that’s why you threw rocks at the fruit trees
and you love that which is yours because it’s only your own
and you love that silence which flesh has.
today at The Scrambler…

scramblerbooks:

Over at The Scrambler today, Luna Miguel introduces Mexican poet David Meza and you can read his poem For the Generations to Come (A Manifesto) translated by Jacob Steinberg. If you like that, be on the lookout for a forthcoming chapbook in English (again translated by Jacob) to be published in association with Mellow Pages Library.

:3 Exciting

small insight into the naming of ‘the romantic dogs’

fragment from chilean poetry under inclement skys, published in Natascha Wimmer’s English translation of Entre paréntesis, a collection of writings by Roberto Bolaño:

"The picture I have of Chilean poetry is like my memory of my first dog, Duke, a mongrel who was part St. Bernard, German shepherd, and Alsatian. He lived with us for many years, and when I was lonely he was like father, mother, teacher and brother all in one. To me, Duke is Chilean poetry and I have the vague suspicion that Chileans see Chilean poetry as a dog, or as dogs in their various incarnations: sometimes as a savage pack of wolves, sometimes as a solitary howl heard between dreams and sometimes —especially—as a lap dog at the groomer’s."

magulladon:

Issue No. 16 of Chutzpah! (天南): The Diamond Generation (钻石一代)
will feature two poems by me
in Spanish, English, and Mandarin

plus my translations from Spanish to English
of Luna Miguel & David Meza

and poems by my friends
Gabby Bess, Miguel Rual, and Harry Burke.

—-

El número 16 de Chutzpah! (天南): La generación Diamante (钻石一代)
va a contar con dos poemas míos
en castellano, inglés y chino

más mis traducciones de castellano al inglés
de Luna Miguel y David Meza

poemas de mis amigos
Gabby Bess, Miguel Rual y Harry Burke.

Scrambler Books: Ben Brooks on Luna Miguel and translation...

In Barcelona, you relate to our best young writers like Luna Miguel and Antonio J. Rodriguez. Do you read some Spanish literature?

I like Luna and Antonio a lot. One book of poetry from Luna, Bluebird and Other Tattoos (Scrambler Books, 2012) is published in English and I think it’s one of my…

Yo how do I enter this profession? Lol

Our New Bed

I almost wrote you a letter
when I realized - you live beside me
in our new bed.

I’ll actually miss that:
making use of tired infrastructure
old mailmen and crumbled asphalt parking lots
sending you small gifts and
brutish words
the kind I can only whisper
in our new bed.

La tumba del marinero.

Reseña del libro de poesía La tumba del marinero por Luna Miguel (La Bella Varsovia, 2013):
Portada

Pues, qué belleza. Qué putrefacción. A veces huele, ese libro. A veces huele incluso muy mal. Porque ese libro es una tumba, y el cuerpo todavía está vivo - lleno de gusanos y palabras retorciéndose.

Azucár como arma. Cánceres que se crecen y que se propagan.

La tumba del marinero comparte unos poemas que ya han sido publicados en la edición norteamericana que se llama Bluebird and Other Tattoos (The Scrambler, 2012). Sin embargo, la mayoría son nuevos. Leí los poemas en voz alta, sentado en una muelle del lago Michigan. Me parecía apropriado. El poemario (o bien novela política) trata de enfermedades, de amores (que quizá sean enfermedades), de disgustos.

Vengan a enterarse por qué “la vida no puede ser experimentada ni por los vivos ni por los muertos”. Que lean a Luna Miguel.


Another marvelous, hideous collection of poetry from Luna Miguel. In a way, the whole book squirms and oozes, speaking of disease and love, seasickness and disgust. But it’s not an ugly book - it’s a muddy book in the way you can enjoy squishing your feet in spring puddles. We all want to see our insides, even when we’re frightened at first glance. And that kind of pull, of the sickness that we feel inside, is the force of Luna’s “The Sailor’s Grave”.

Some of my favorite poems:

Four: Monogamy One: Seams (also appears in Bluebirds) Eight: Bad Blood (a long segment in which things grow and grow and then shrink into the end of the world)

If your Spanish will serve, order La tumba del marinero. Hopefully we’ll be seeing much more of Luna’s work translated for the US!

editorialcerebro:

EDITORIAL CEREBRO is a literary collective which specializes in the publishing and distribution of books, chapbooks, both in print and online of short fiction and poetry. SOLDIERS OF THE WORLD is a compilation of poetry and short stories in English and Spanish from writers and literature enthusiasts from around the world, it was edited and assembled by Arvelisse Ruby.

Poetry and short stories by Araym Viviana, Ela Flores, Miguel Lausell, Keisha Gutierrez, Noah Cicero, Kevin Cole, Sarah San, Mark Baumer, Justin Hyde, Eddie Jones, Arvelisse Ruby, Gustavo Rivera, Weston Auburn, Yasmine Stella Ledeé, Tania Colón Morales, Nicole Fraticelli, Alejandro Jorge, David Barliza Colorado, Gabby Gabby, Camila Frías Estrada and Julia Kapetanov.

Check out some incredible Spanish and English-language poetry and short-fiction in “Soldiers of the World” - including two of my own poems!