Lourdes Vázquez & Cybele, As She Dreams

The poet’s blogger profile has her starting the day with a cup of coffee as she fixes her gaze on Biscayne Bay. Perhaps metaphors take shape in those waters and float to the surface so that Lourdes Vázquez can snatch them up in time for her next book. This Puerto Rican writer has a lot of those, over a dozen works of poetry and prose. She also frequently publishes creative writings and essays in journals and newspapers in the U. S., across the Americas, and elsewhere. Some of her works, originally written in Spanish, have been translated into various languages. A recent publication is her collection of short stories: La mujer, el pan y el pordiosero (México D. F.: Ediciones Eón, 2010).



Today we share a poetic excerpt from Cibeles que sueña / Cybele, As She Dreams, written by Lourdes Vázquez and translated by Enriqueta Carrington. The publication of this handmade poetry book launches Taller Asiray, an independent publisher of poetry books made with recycled materials. Puerto Rican poet Yarisa Colón Torres, the founder of Taller Asiray, makes artistic books out of recycled materials to “be in planetary balance.” Forthcoming from Taller Asiray is Te vi luna, a book of poems by Leticia Ruiz Rosado, translated into Portuguese by Marilú Pérez. Books can be obtained by contacting Asirayworks@hotmail.com. --tatiana de la tierra




Cibeles que sueña / Cybele, As She Dreams

Lourdes Vázquez

Translated by Enriqueta Carrington

2.
Se encuentra Cibeles
en el pico del peñasco. Una gran piedra incrustada de Devas,
ángeles y demonios protegen
la cosecha. Se encuentra ella
acompañada del sonido del
viento y la presencia del águila
con su ojo despiadado,
además de este insomnio
que impide identificar
el olor del Otro.
Porque te vuelves cuerda
que nadie sostiene, peatón señalado
y enmudecido para siempre.

Cybele is to be found
on the peak of the crag. A great stone encrusted with Devas,
angels and demons protects
the crops. She is to be found
accompanied by the sound
of wind and the presence of the eagle
with its pitiless eye, in
addition to this sleeplessness
that prevents you from identifying
the scent of the Other.
Because you become a rope
nobody’s holding, a foot-traveler marked
and rendered mute forever.

5.

Cristal que toco con la punta de mis dedos, miedo
de que me hinquen sus pedacitos, miedo de la sangre que brote. Debo cuidar que no se rompa
como se rompe un país y así contenga todo como sigue siendo, como lo que ha sido: con su inventario de hijos ignorados, amadas
traicionadas, amigos sospechosamente maltratados.

Crystal I touch with my fingertips, fear
that its smithereens will pierce me, fear of
the blood that would flow. I must take care that it
does not break as a country is broken, that it may contain everything as it continues to be, as it has been: with its inventory of ignored children,
loved women betrayed, friends suspiciously mistreated.

7.

Tuve un sueño entre muchos.
Nada tengo que decir. Solo que lo tuve. Ahí se plantó
escena tras escena con su mismo pietaje de angustia
y sus voces delgadas de niños perdidos, incapaces de encontrar
a la madre. Trato de comprender
qué es real, cuál el reverso.

I had a dream among many.
I have nothing to say. Only that I
had it. It was stubbornly here,
scene after scene arose with the same anguished footage
and thin lost-child voices, unable to find the mother. I try to understand
what is real, what is the obverse.

15.

En la noche quieta,
salí a la calle a localizar la entrada o la salida que me conduciría a mi casa.
Sospeché de todo lo que tengo cerca incluso de aquella transeúnte sonriente que se
detiene. Aprieto mi paso rumbo a otra figura familiar
mas distante, con la esperanza de que las luces de la ciudad puedan reconocer esta sombra y conducirme a un lugar seguro.
Es curioso: reconozco este paisaje y aún así no encuentro mi destino.

In the quiet night,
I went out into the street to discover the entry or exit that would lead me home.
I suspected everything near me, even that passing woman with her smile, who
stops. I quicken my steps towards another familiar figure
farther away with the hope that the
city lights will acknowledge this shadow and
lead me to a safe place.
It's curious: I recognize this landscape and even so I cannot find my destination.