Issue 19

Winter 2019

Cuando bajó del mar hacia la tierra…

Stella Díaz Varín
Translated by Rebecca Levi
ENGLISH | SPANISH

¡Ah, se invierte el invierno en mediodía!

Casi, como viniendo de aguas primeras.

Exabrupto del trébol,

cuatro hojas hacia el viento;

bajo el alero ladran flores oscuras.

Cuando uno desde la mano se aproxima,

ya nada, ni el amor parece cosa del demonio.

Sabes que todos esperan algo,

una carta alentadora,

una noche sin dormir.

-Las preocupaciones también

son obra del demonio-.

Y parece mentira.

Bajar desde la cumbre agonizando

como rodado intencional

y caer en la cabaña de un pastor protestante.

Después de todo

eres tan solo

como una perdiz, en busca de sus polluelos.

Nada te consiente sino la planta de cicuta

que todos cortan y siempre vive

porque tiene doble corazón.

Ahora

que ya nada me separa

del sabor que experimenta la hoja

cuando le cae encima la mirada del hombre;

me despido de la virtud como de una vieja amiga

y existo entre los malhechores,

entre los profanadores de tumbas;

y soy un dios de carne y hueso

para los espantapájaros.

Originally published by Cuarto Propio.

About the Author

Stella Díaz Varín (1926-2006), was a Chilean poet and member of ‘la Generación del ‘50,” along with novelist José Donoso and poet Enrique Lihn. Chile knew “La Colorina” for her fiery hair and personality rather than the incisiveness of her verse, and she never received the same recognition as her peers during her lifetime. In 2011, her work was collected and published by Cuarto Propio, a Santiago-based press named for Virginia Woolf’s A Room Of One’s Own. This is the first time Díaz Varín’s poetry is appearing in English. The translated poems are from her 1959 collection, Time, Imaginary Measure, and display Díaz Varín’s transparent, confessional style and her atemporal voice. The narrator speaks as God and the oppressed, sorceress and unhappy wife and indigenous woman. Houses become female bodies, and currents of dark humor, nostalgia, and deep anger run through the poems, like flash floods in a narrow canyon.

About the Translator

Rebecca Levi is a musician, poet, and translator originally from New York City. After years living in Peru and Colombia, she received her MFA in 2018 from Boston University. Her poetry and translations have been published by No Tokens Journal BorderSenses , and Princeton University Press, and are forthcoming at Columbia Journal and Broadstone Books. These translations of Stella Díaz Varín won second place in the Robert Fitzgerald Translation Prize at Boston University, and Rebecca’s poem about pigs and break-ups, “December 31st,” won third place in the 2018 Mick Imlah Poetry Prize at The Times Literary Supplement . Rebecca’s band is called Debarro, meaning “of mud” and ever-changing, which also describes what she likes about poetry.

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