poem by Matilde Espinosa

Matilde Espinosa was born in Tierradentro, a small town in southwestern Colombia, in 1917. She lived part of her adult life in Paris, returning to Colombia after World War II. Among other things she is known for her public activism at mid-century, when she campaigned for women's right to vote.

Espinosa has used poetry as a space for exploring contradictory aspects of life in the past century. She is particularly known for her writings about inequality, dependence, and injustice, focusing attention on poverty and gender. Her poems often contrast these forces to the surrounding beauty of Colombian landscapes. "Llueve" can be read either as a meditation on individual or social death.

Among her many books are La ciudad entra en la noche (2001), La sombra en el muro (1997), Señales de sombra (1996), Los héroes perdidos (1994), Estación desconocida (1990), Memoria del viento (1987), El mundo es una calle larga (1976), Pasa el viento (1970), Afuera las estrellas (1961), Por todos los silencios (1958), and Los ríos han crecido (1955).

 

poem translated by Kristin Dykstra

Kristin Dykstra is currently working on translations of contemporary poetry by Cuban poets Ángel Escobar and Omar Pérez.  Two recent books featuring her translations and criticism are Something of the Sacred / Algo de lo sagrado (poetry by Omar Pérez, 2007) and an updated edition of La detención del tiempo / Time's Arrest (poetry by Reina María Rodríguez, 2005).  Another book by Rodríguez, The Winter Garden Photograph / La foto del invernadero, is forthcoming from Green Integer.  Dykstra co-edits the cross-cultural, multilingual journal Mandorla:  New Writing from the Americas / Nueva escritura de las Américas with Roberto Tejada (San Diego, CA) and Gabriel Bernal Granados (México DF). 

Website w/ CV: Dr. Dykstra

 

lili maya is an artist working/teaching in Baltimore:
www.lilimaya.net

And it rains

Onto this dawnless
craft
shadows rain.

Realms of love collapse
and butterflies, white, take flight
as wild flowers.

Behind the blackest cloud
gather rumorous,
parched winds, and it rains.

Memories march past;
tales of passion and conflagrations,
tremors or living death.

Extraordinary visions on the air
roll into the fog, and it rains.

On this dawnless craft
no recovery is possible;
the horizon has closed, and it rains.



Llueve

En esta embarcación
sin madrugada
llueven las sombras.

Se derrumban
los reinos del amor
y vuelan las mariposas blancas
como flores silvestres.

Tras la nube más negra
se concentran los vientos
noticiosos, sedientos, llueve.

Desfilan los recuerdos;
historias de pasión con incendios,
temblores o viva muerte.

Mágicas visiones en el aire
ruedan a la tiniebla, llueve.

En esta embarcación sin madrugada
no hay recobro posible;
cerrado el horizonte, llueve.


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