"Llueve sobre tus ojos claros." "It rains on your clear eyes."

"Llueve sobre tus ojos claros."

Llueve sobre tus ojos claros.
Una foto en Plaza de Mayo, una columna
de caras marca el camino.
Mi padre te mira
y da la espalda.
 
(Se contraía el diafragma
se abría, como despertarse
de un sueño antiguo).
 
Nada. Entre fotogramas, papa nada y yo
con ocho años de rigor, veo de rodillas
mi nombre en vos.
 
De la plaza me separa
una pared traslúcida, un colchón
ruido. Acá adentro, tu nombre y yo,
las voces que nos callaron.
 
Se abre el domo encima de nosotros
sobre el resuello de Catedral:
ahí está, la imagen que falta
 
y en olas
vuelve lejana la vibración, la multitud
los pasos, gritos, encuentros. Una marejada
en tus ojos, los de mi padre.
 

"It rains on your clear eyes."

It rains on your clear eyes.
A photo in the Plaza de Mayo, a pillar
of faces paves the way.
My father looks at you
and turns away.
 
(Diaphragm contracting
and opening, as if waking
from an old dream).
 
Absent. Between still frames, papa swims and I
Eight years bold, on my knees, see
my name in you.
 
A translucent wall, a mattress of
noise, separates me from
the plaza. Here inside, your name and I,
the voices that silenced us.
 
The dome opens above us
Catedral gasps for air:
there it is, the disappeared image
 
and in waves
the distant vibration returns, the crowd
the footsteps, shouts, meetings. A flood
in your eyes, my father’s eyes.
 
It [rains/is raining] on your [clear/light/‘not-brown’] eyes.
A photo in [the] Plaza de Mayo, a column
of faces [marks out/leads/paves] the way.
My father looks at you
and turns his back.
 
([The/my/his] diaphragm was contracting
and opening, like waking
from an old dream).
 
[Nothing/swims]. Among [photos/stills], dad [nothing/swims] and I
8 years old [de rigueur/toughness/precision], I see on my knees
my name in you.
 
From the square separates me
a translucent wall, a [mattress/buffer]
noise. Here inside, your name and me,
[the/our] voices [that] silenced [us].
 
The dome opens above us
on Cathedral’s gasp[ing]:
there it is, the image [that’s] [missing/needed]
 
and in waves
returns faraway the vibration, the [crowd/multitude]
the footsteps, shouts, [encounters/meetings]. A [tide/swell/upsurge]
in your eyes, those of my father.
 

The untitled poem by Paula Galindez uses metaphors of rain, water, ocean and photo frames to examine a kind of loss and pain. The translation process was an enlightening entry into Spanish polysemy (why is ‘nada’ a word for ‘nothing’ as well as ‘swimming’?) as well as a history lesson into the dictatorships of the 70s Argentina. Translating the work was as much traversing meaning as overcoming subtle minefields of peculiar poetic expressions, sometimes with alliterations, to arrive at a new but familiar destination. The workshop, with the help of Jon, the guide translator, gave us a lot to work with into beautiful and fulfilling conversations.

Kọ́lá Túbọ̀sún, Poet-facilitator

Original Poem by

Paula Galindez

Translated by

Jon Herring with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Spanish

Country

Argentina