Translations
by Daniela Gioseffi from
On Prejudice: A Global Perspective
Translations
by Daniela Gioseffi from On Prejudice: A Global Perspective,
a multicultural anthology of world literature ©1993 Daniela
Gioseffi, Doubleday/AnchorBooks, NY. All rights reserved. ISBN#
1-884419-03-8. Toll free discount orders:Barnes & Noble 1-888-257-6397,
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translations by Daniela Gioseffi.]
Anna
Akhmatova | Marina Tsvetayeva
|
Ileana
Malancioiu | Carilda Oliver
Labra
Anna Akhmatova
of Russia:
THE
FIRST LONG RANGE ARTILLERY FIRE ON LENINGRAD
A
multi-colored crowd streaked about,
and suddenly all was totally changed.
It wasn't the usual city racket.
It came from a strange land.
True, it was akin to some random claps of thunder,
but natural thunder heralds the wetness of fresh water
high clouds
to quench the thirst of fields gone dry and parched,
a messenger of blessed rain,
but this was as dry as hell must be.
My distraught perception refused
to blieve it, because of the insane
suddenness with which it sounded, swelled and hit,
and how casually it came
to murder my child.
[Translation
Copyright © 1993 by DanielaGioseffi. All rights reserved.]
MarinaTsvetayeva
of Russia:
From:
POEM OF THE END, Stanzas from#12:
Thick
as a horse's mane,
rain
in our eyes. Hills ahead.
We've
passed the outskirts.
Now
we're far from town. ....
Rain
insanely tears at us.
We
stand and part from each other.
In
three months, we hope for
a
few moments of sharing.
Outside!
Comprehend? We're nationless!
That
means we've passed the walls within.
Life's
a place where it's forbidden
to
live. Like the Hebrew quarter.
Isn't
it more worthy to
become
an eternal Jew?
Anyone
not a viper
suffers
the same pogrom.
Life's
for converts only
Judases
of all faiths.
Let's
live on segragated, leprous islands,
or
in hell, anywhere, only not
in
a compromised life nurturing traitors,
among
those who are sheep to butchers!
This
passport which gives me the
right
to live--I stamp. Under my feet.
Destroy
as vengence for the star
of
David. For heaps of corpses,
and
their executioners (Toothsome!)saying,
"after
all, the Jews didn't wantto live."
Ghetto
of the resolute! Beyond this
ditch,
no mercy abounds
in
this most Christian of worlds,
all
poets of truth are Jews!
[Translation
Copyright © 1993 byDaniela Gioseffi. All rights reserved.]
IleanaMalancioiu
of Romania:
Romanian
writer and philospher., she received adoctorate in philosophy
from Bucharest University and has worked for Romaniantelevision.
She is an editor with the monthly literary magainze Viata Romaneasca.One
of the most prolific of contemporary Romanian poets, she has publishednine
volumes of poems since her first in l967. Born in the area of
Argesin l940, she won the poetry prize of the Writers' Union in
l970. This oneof her poems demonstrates an eternal theme through
the use of an ancientstory. The mighty emperors and dictators
carry on their bloody wars andmake the rules for all, while the
lonely kin struggle to mourn and burytheir dead with dignity,
and the people around them are too frightened orapathetic to change
the horrors.
ANTIGONE
A
frozen mound, white body of a dead man
fallen
in hard battle and left above the Earth.
Hungry
dogs come to bite the treacherous snow
and
another winter comes, too, to take its bite.
Let
a pure woman appear to break the command,
to
wrench the forsaken body from the dogs
and
hide it as a dear brother--
while
those near her wash their hands of it
and
allow her to be buried alive in the earth
clothed
in unreal white,
for
as the emperor lost his great battle
she
wept and buried her frozen mound.
[Translation
Copyright © by Daniela Gioseffi.All rights reserved.]
CARILDA
OLIVER LABRA (b. 1922--) LATIN-AMERICAN CARIBBEAN :
Born in Matanzas , Cuba, she taught for many years as a professor
of FineArts in Havana. The coveted National Prize for poetry came
to her in l950as a result of her popular and notorious book, At
the South of MyThroat (Al sur de mi garganta) 1949. In
honor of the tri-centennialof Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz ,in a
contest sponsored by The Latin AmericanSociety in Washington D.C.,
in 1950, she received first place the same yearshe won the national
Cuban First Prize. Her work was highly praised by NobelPrize Winners,
Gabriela Mistral and Pablo Neruda. Her debut collection,l943,
Lyric Prelude (Preludio lirico) immediately establishedher
as an important poetic voice, even before At the South of My Throat--made
her famous. In 1958, she published Feverish Memory (Memoriade
la fiebre) which added to her notoriety as a blatantly
eroticpoet. Like Alexandra Kollantai of Russia, Emma Goldman of
the U.S., GeorgeSand of England, or Simone de Beauvoir of France,
she was a pioneer of woman'sindependence in her homeland and has
emerged today as one of Cuba's leadingpoets. Carilda Oliver-Labra's
other works include Song to the Flag(Canto a la Bandera,
1950); Song to Marti (Canto a Marti,1953); Song
to Matanzas (Canto a Matanzas, 1956.) Today, inSpain a
foundation offers the Carilda Oliver Prize for Poetry, and a documentaryof
the poet's life has been produced and aired throghout Europe.
Some of these poems come from her first volume of poetry in
American English, translated by Daniela Gioseffi with Enildo Garcia,
with a foreword by Gregory Rabassa, Dust Disappiears (Cross
Cultural Communications, Merrick, N.Y., ©1995 by the translators).
In the foreword to DustDisappears, Gregory Rabassa,
translator of Gabriel Garcia Marquezamong other Nobel Prize Winners,
said: "A phenomenon that had its rootsin the poetical revolt
called Modernism that took place in Spanish Americatoward the
end of the century was the sudden appearance of a generationof
women poets ( stemming from isolated figures, such as Sor Juan
Ines dela Cruz of the 17th century) who, in any number of ways,
formed a bridgeto the second revolt, that of prose, often referred
to as "magic realism,"which came about at mid-century.
... Their new poetry was called poesiafemina, . In view
of the events between their time and ours, today wecan correctly
call it poesia feminista. The feminist movement hasits
early counterparts in these poets of Latin America, where its
aims were and still are sorely needed..
MY
MOTHER YOU ARE IN A LETTER FROM MIAMI
My
mother, you're only in a letter
and
in an old scolding that I couldn't find;
stay
here forever in the center
of
a blooming rose that never dies.
My
Mother, so far away, tired
of
snow and mist. Wait, I'm coming
to
bring you home to live with the sun insideyou,
My
Mother, who lives in a letter.
You
can give a date to mystery,
that
would blend with bewitching shadows;
you
can be the stone rolled away,
you
can evaporate the circles under your eyes;
but
remember, your small daughter, Mother;
Don't
dare to do all you can do, don't die
THE
BOY WHO SELLS GREENS
You
have no parents, its clear...I know
because
of your indecisive look. I can tellbecause of your shirt.
You
are small but grown up behind the basket.
You
respect the sparrows. A penny is enoughfor you.
The
people pass dressed inside with steel.
They
don't listen to you...You have shouted
two
or three times: "Greens!"
They
pass indifferently carrying packages andumbrellas;
in
new pants and new yellow blouses;
they
walk in a hurry toward the bank and thetedium
or
toward the sunset through Main Street...
And
you're not selling: you do the game of selling;
and
although you never played, it comes to youwithout trying...
But
don't get close to me; no, child, don'ttalk with me.
I
don't want to see the site of your probablewings.
I
found you this morning around the courthouse,
and
what a blow your unhappy innocence has givenme!
My
heart which was a urn of illusion
is
now like a wilted greens, like no heart...
OF
THE WORD
I
won't tell you about truth,
because
the word's going to die
and
others
will
need it.
You
came bearing the word
and
I was sensitive to it.
I
said:
give
me a little of it...
I
was weak
and
I took the word from your shoulder.
You
see:
it's
so heavy
that
I, too, double over.
I
want to say the word
over
your grave,
but
a flower already blooms there.
Between
the final truth
and
immortality
stands
the poet
whose
word was murdered by gunfire.
They
killed your word
and
covered you with earth,
but
it doesn't matter,
you'll
sing in the seeds.
[Acknowledgement: From
Dust Disappears, selected
poems of Carilda Oliver Labra, Letras Cubanas, Havana,1953. Original
Spanish Copyright by the author. English translations ©1995
by Daniela Gioseffi & Enildo Gracia.]
Copyright
©1993 by Daniela
Gioseffi from On Prejudice: A Global Perspective Doubleday/AnchorBooks
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