Las mujeres que me volvieron loca de verdad The women who really drove me crazy

Las mujeres que me volvieron loca de verdad

Las mujeres que más amé
las que me volvieron loca de verdad
las chicas con las que quise todo, escribían.
 
Mi mamá hizo hasta segundo grado y no
me miró los cuadernos ni pudo
colorear un mapa conmigo o ayudarme
en un ejercicio de contabilidad.
 
El colegio y casa eran
una cadena rota en mi cabeza.
Cada vez que la veía firmar algo,
el boletín de la primaria,
un documento en el banco,
notaba que lo hacía lentamente
como alguien recuperándose de un golpe.
 
Me pregunto si las mujeres que amé
las que me volvieron loca de verdad
las chicas con las que quise todo
fueron mi movilidad intelectual ascendente,
 
si elegir mujeres que escriben
es disimular eso que me falta
cada vez que las dejo
o que me dejan.
 

The women who really drove me crazy

The women that I loved the most 
the ones who really drove me crazy 
the girls with whom I wanted everything, all wrote. 
 
Mamá did up to second grade and never 
looked at my homework, couldn’t 
colour in a map with me or help me 
with my algebra. 
 
School and home were 
a broken chain through my head 
Every time I saw her signing something - 
my primary school report, 
a document at the bank - 
I noticed she was doing it slowly 
like someone recovering from a blow 
 
I ask myself if the women I loved 
the ones who really drove me crazy 
the girls with whom I wanted everything 
were my intellectual upward mobility 
 
if choosing women who write 
is to cover up that thing I lack 
every time I leave them 
or they leave me. 
 

Women That Really Drove Me Crazy

The women that I most loved/the most
those that drove me/made me really crazy/for sure
the girls with whom (I) wanted everything, wrote.
 
My mother/mum lasted/did until second grade and did not
look at my homework/notebooks, nor she could
colour a map with me nor help me
with an accounting/math exercise/problem.
 
The school and home were
a broken chain in/on my head.
Every time I saw her signing something;
the report for primary school,
a document at the bank,
I noticed that she was doing it slowly/calmly
like someone recovering/recuperating from a blow.
 
I ask myself if the women I loved
those that drove me really crazy/for sure
the girls with whom I wanted everything
were my intellectual upward mobility/force
 
if choosing women who write
is to hide that which I lack/is missing in me
every time I leave them
or they leave me.
 

Original Poem by

Silvina Giaganti

Translated by

Leo Boix with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Spanish

Country

Argentina