The READIN Family Album
Sylvia's on the back (October 2005)

READIN

Jeremy's journal

One never stops reading, though books come to an end, just as one never stops living, even though death is a certainty.

Roberto Bolaño


(This is a page from my archives)
Front page
More recent posts
Older posts
More posts about:
Translation
Writing Projects
Projects
Poetry
Readings

Archives index
Subscribe to RSS

This page renders best in Firefox (or Safari, or Chrome)

🦋 Left Behind

I want to try posting a rough translation of the first canto of Gerbasi's "My Father the Immigrant". The loose rhythm and magical language of the poem are seeming to come across into English pretty naturally.

My father, Juan Batista Gerbasi, whose life inspired this poem, was born in a winemaking region on the Tyrrhenian coast of Italy; he died in Canoabo, a tiny Venezuelan village hidden away in the wilderness in Estado Carabobo.
We come from the night; and into the night we go.
We leave behind the earth, enveloped in her vapors;
the dwelling place of almond grove, of child and of leopard.
And leave behind our days: lakes, snowstorms, reindeer,
dour volcanoes, enchanted forests
where the blue shadows of fear live.
And leave behind the graves beneath the cypress,
lonely like the grief of distant stars.
And leave behind our glories, torches blown out by secular gusts.
And leave behind our doors, muttering darkly in the wind.
And leave behind our anguish in celestial mirrors.
And time we'll leave behind, time with man's drama:
Progenitor of life, progenitor of death.
Time, which raises up and wears down columns,
Which murmurs from the ocean's multitude.
And leave behind the light which bathes the mountains,
which bathes our children's parks, our altars white.
But also the night with its mournful cities,
quotidian night, no longer even night,
that brief respite, trembling with lightning bugs,
or passing through our souls in savage strokes.
Night which falls again against the light,
awakening the flowers in moody valleys,
remaking the waters' lap among the mountains,
launching horses into clear blue streams;
meanwhile eternity, gleaming golden,
makes its silent way through heavenly fields.

posted morning of Monday, September 5th, 2011
➳ More posts about Translation
➳ More posts about Writing Projects
➳ More posts about Projects
➳ More posts about Poetry
➳ More posts about Readings

love it, thx jeremy :)

posted afternoon of September 5th, 2011 by tony hunt

Beautifully rendered Jeremy...smooth language & rythm, in harmony with the tender grief...
Unfortunately I do not know the original language, but I do love this version...thanx...

posted morning of September 6th, 2011 by Samira Naim Khoury

Respond:

Name:
E-mail:
(will not be displayed)
Link:
Remember info

Drop me a line! or, sign my Guestbook.
    •
Check out Ellen's writing at Patch.com.

What's of interest:

(Other links of interest at my Google+ page. It's recommended!)

Where to go from here...

Friends and Family
Programming
Texts
Music
Woodworking
Comix
Blogs
South Orange
readinsinglepost