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Issue 4
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March 10, NY

  • by Jeannette L. Clariond
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  • October, 2017

1

White silence, absent birds.
Treetops blowing in the clouds
wound the landscape’s rhythm.
In the time between arising and disappearance
snow dissolves rock. And the sound of the wind,
unknown voices
that freeze
our fruitless actions.
A sign (a shot) separates us from The Idea.
Slipping toward the void: the desert
senses the tremor.

 

2

Our lives become other lives,
ephemeral sparkle of glass.
The newborn dew
has become a brittle leaf.
Are we history? No, stain,
smoke
of impossible transcendence,
water among oaks. While
we sip the cup of bitter coffee
we linger over, inclining our faces.

 

3

Not history, but rather breath in search
of deepest green branches.
You cried, brilliance lost
and in the dark
with icy eyes
I feared seeing
an empty skiff in a waterless lake.
In your eyes I saw the sea born: ineffable clarity.
You’d traverse
years, tunnels, electrified towers
to find my hands.

 

4

Fear is finding likeness itself.
Interpreting dreams
is our worst nightmare.
Whom do we represent? Which part of the insect
encases the poison?
Every season, like every word,
brings its death
—almost out of reach—
refuge
of scattered violets. And the Logos?
Why should I want a Logos if
what I seek is to house
the light in other light?
There, to nest in darkness.

 

5

Finding the other part of fire,
the needle in the haystack, eye
threading
texture, loose tacking
entering
and leaving with hardly a trace.
Angelina did it in her writing
beneath Saint Michael’s sword—beneath the open sky—
in the grand mansions where lamps shed no light.

 

6

Reflected in the glass, the plum tree,
autumn falling,
gravity and desire, contradiction
of nature
returning to the ur-image:
the spring among the stones,
and the cub, her gentleness there in the meadow,
at the edge of the glade, her eyes
rings of fire; the spittle on the
lioness’s tongue. Existence cannot escape fate.

 

7

Syllables scented with jasmine. I sowed words
in ancient flowerpots.
Roots
attempting to revive—what vacant house?
At five the hollow sacrifice
and over the cockerel, bells;
damp grass, insects on leaves
and the cry of a magpie. Echoes
of God, life. We die
far beneath the sky, fear
drowns us
in the first and only beginning.
Mirror sky, tomb land,
there is no conclusion, no end. Thread
and texture,
the light of fruit, cold, inside me.

 

8

Better to yield to the splendor
of the horizon.
God dreams our lives, no peace for the gods
who invented the word and war.
Fire speaks names. We speak with it
of light, we speak
the silence of light.
The dawn gives birth to the first ray
over the ochre brown
Of the cockerel.
God, I don’t know where you’ve gone.

 

9

Is there no end to a soul’s fear?
No measure for what we feel?
The light intensifies, irrevocably.
The hummingbird feeds on flowers, we
on desire. I peer silently at the sky.
An occasional flight scatters the violet of the landscape
for a sun that may suddenly sink
unaware of its own ascent.

 

10

This light speaks to us of roots
whose brilliance is lost
in the cold heart of water.
I hear and I don’t hear, I enter without entering
the other part of the sea
spreading
towards silence or the chasm of night.
Shadow of the August moon,
bird on the wing,
everything draws nearer. Reality that we
ourselves cannot behold.

March 10, 2003
The US begins bombing Baghdad

Translated by Samantha Schnee

  • Jeannette L. Clariond

Jeannette L. Clariond is a poet, translator, and the founder/director of Vaso Roto Ediciones Publishers (Spain & Mexico). Ms. Clariond has translated the Italian poet, Alda Merini, and Primo Levi’s poetic works; she is currently translating the collected poetry of Elizabeth Bishop. Clariond was invited to read her poetry at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC, and, in June 2014, she returned to present her work on translation. On June 20, 2014 she received the Juan de Mairena Prize, presented as part of the Summer of Poetry Festival by the Department of Performing Arts and Literature at the University of Guadalajara. She has dedicated much of her career to the study of ancient philosophy and religion in Mexico, and has given seminars and lectures on the subject both in Mexico and abroad. Ms. Clariond is a collaborating member of the North American Academy of the Spanish Language, which has branches in Washington and New York.

  • Samantha Schnee

Photo: Anita Staff

Samantha Schnee is a 2023 National Endowment of the Arts Literature Fellow in Translation, supporting her work to render Boullosa’s Gijon Prize winning novel, El complot de los románticos, into English as Dante Hits the Road. Her translation of Boullosa’s Texas: The Great Theft was shortlisted for the PEN America Translation Prize. She is the founding editor of Words Without Borders. 

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