Frente al enemigo
A Pepe y Mikel
La situación nunca ha sido más propicia. Aquellos que hemos dialogado durante años
para dominar en un segundo los conocimientos y el espacio, no podemos abandonar
esta sonrisa.
El recuerdo nos reúne en un instante y se agolpan las ideas. El desierto desearía
edificar así sus espejismos.
Esta mañana un viento nuevo nos abre el camino, como el primer libro. Estamos otra
vez en el inicio del viaje. Mil veces, si es necesario, repetiremos la consigna:
¡qué alegría este combate!
Facing the Enemy
To Pepe and Mikel
The situation has never been more conducive. Those of us that have dialogued for
years in order to master in one second, knowledge and space, cannot abandon this
smile.
Memory reunites us in an instant and swarms with ideas. The desert would wish to
construct its mirages in this very same way.
This morning a new wind opens way for us, like the first book. We are, once again,
at the beginning of the journey. A thousand times, if necessary, we shall repeat
the motto: how joyful this battle!
(From Mi tiempo [My Time], 1980)
La rosa
No la he podido tocar nunca. Debe ser un exceso de admiración. Algo me contaron de
ella, acerca de su perfume, de su delicadeza: algún cuento. Ahora, cada vez que la
encuentro, que puede ser mía, me detengo y pesa sobre mí el cielo. Y yo quisiera
acercarme y, con estas manos, cortarla, ponerla sobre un plato, blanco, y comérmela.
The Rose
I’ve never been able to touch her. It must be an excess of admiration. They told me
something about her, about her perfume, her delicate nature: some story. Now, each
time that I find her, that she can be mine, I stop, and the sky weighs over me. And
I’d like to get near her and, with these hands, cut her, place her on a white plate,
and eat her.
(From Mi tiempo [My Time], 1980)
Mariposa
Esta mariposa está loca. Sentada, pierna arriba, se contempla en el espejo. Se coloca
largas pestañas. Luego va de un lado a otro, indecisa. Elige entre un surtido de alas
de colores. Pasa un brazo, después del otro. Suspira. Apura el paso, corre y se lanza
por la ventana.
Butterfly
This butterfly is crazy. Seated, legs up, she looks at herself in the mirror. She puts
on long eyelashes. Then she flutters from one place to another, indecisive. She chooses
from a collection of colourful wings. She puts one arm through, then another. She sighs.
She hurries, runs and jumps from the window.
(From Mi tiempo [My Time], 1980)
Sobre el mar
Sobre el mar inmóvil, anclados, vi flotar la formación de pelícanos. Sobrepuestos en el
paño azul, tallados en madera, quietas las cabezas, pensativos, ocupaban cuadras de la
costa.
A pocos pasos, más arriba, el tráfico y el ruido de vehículos y el tren corriendo junto
a la playa. Y tú y yo viajando y leyendo este inmundo periódico de hoy, Valparaíso, 21
de abril de 1981.
On the Sea
On the still sea, anchored, I saw a formation of pelicans float. Superimposed on the blue
cloth, carved from wood, with still and thoughtful heads, they occupied coastal blocks.
A few feet away, further up, the traffic and the noise of vehicles and the train running
along the beach. And you and I travelling and reading this dirty paper of today, Valparaiso,
21 April 1981.
(From Playa de invierno [Winter's Beach], 1985)
Sergio Holas-Véliz was born in the port town Valparaíso in Chile. His poetry has been published in
Babab (Spain),
Letralia (Venezuela),
Arena,
Social Alternatives and the
Australian Poetry Journal. He has published three poetry books,
Distancia cero (Cero Distance),
Ciudad dividida (Divided City), and
Paisajes en movimiento (Moving Landscapes), all published by Altazor Ediciones. He has also recently published
Poetry of the Earth: Mapuche Trilingual Anthology (Interactive Press, 2014), which he translated with Steve Brock and Juan Garrido Salgado. He currently teaches Spanish language and Latin American culture & literature at the University of Adelaide.
Steve Brock was born in Adelaide in 1971, where he lives with his wife and teenage daughter. In 1989, Brock lived in Argentina for a year on an AFS student exchange, and later majored in Spanish at Flinders University. He completed a PhD in contemporary Australian literature at Flinders in 2003. For the past decade he has worked in the public service as a speechwriter and policy officer. He published his first collection of poetry,
the night is a dying dog, in 2007 (Wakefield Press), and in 2009 received a grant from Arts SA for the completion of
Double Glaze (forthcoming with Five Islands Press). Brock is the co-translator with Sergio Holas and Juan Garrido-Salgado of the
Trilingual Mapuche Poetry Anthology (forthcoming with Interactive Press), and has published his poetry and translations from the Spanish in a range of journals.
