Translator’s Note
The following selections come from A Garden Razed to Ashes, an English translation of the 2014 book-length fragmentary poem, Un jardín arrasado de cenizas by Víctor Cabrera. This work by Cabrera draws inspiration from the instrumental “Japanese Folk Song” as performed by Thelonious Monk (and his quartet) on the album Straight, No Chaser (1967). The instrumental by Monk is, itself, a bebop adaptation of the piece of Japanese traditional music, “Kojo no Tsuki” [The Moon over the Ruined Castle], composed by Rentaro Taki in 1901. In these fragments, we can observe the transmission of ideas across time and space as different musicians and authors reimagine the same melody, orchestrating and improvising different approaches to the same melody, carrying the same premise from Tokyo to New York City to Mexico City and beyond. In addition to containing echoes of Monk and Taki’s musical work, Cabrera’s work is also highly self-referential, and the poem comments on the writing process which produced it. Reading this collection, we can see behind the curtain to observe how being transfixed by this haunting and enigmatic work of music can lead to the generation of boundless creativity.
Layers of meaning permeate every aspect of these fragments. Throughout A Garden Razed to Ashes, induvial words simultaneously carry connotations in multiple fields such as music theory and architecture or dance and astronomy. Recurring evocative images in the poem also come to embody strata of significance. A solitary island with a cherry tree growing on it, a contemplative bird, and the faint, distant echo of an ancient garden’s ruins, as well as other motifs, go beyond merely explaining the different versions of the music that inspired them; rather, they create a new world out of the tones and textures of the tune. In addition to Cabrera’s words and images, the formal composition of these poems also reflects the disparate cultural influences that lead to the creation of the music that inspired this book. Jazz music lends its essence to aspects of the poem in the use of rhythm, repetition, and improvisation. The influence of Japanese culture can be felt in formal features such as the haiku structure, and in images such as cherry blossoms.
Cabrera is a highly prolific author and editor whose writings include collections of poetry and short stories. A Garden Razed to Ashes is representative of his style, as his works often enter into dialogue with other works of art including popular music, television, and film.
Interested publishers should contact the translator at [email protected].
James Richie
Louisville, Kentucky
From A Garden Razed to Ashes
A suite within a suite. Tokonoma. A mental shelter. An isolated nucleus.
In the ether vision house, there exists an opportune point for detachment. A minor hideaway for
transcendence.
…………Version. Intervention. Repetition.
…………Version. Intervention. Repetition.
…………Version. Intervention. Repetition.
Returning is the beginning for a new point of departure. Nothing is the same after being itself. Nobody is devoured twice by the same flame – the flame changes. Nobody is anything.
…………Revision. Perversion. Diversion.
…………Edition. Redemption. Innovation.
…………Introspection. Introversion. Introvision.
Treason and Tradition.
…………Variance and dissonance.
…………Version. Intervention. Repetition.
…………Repetition. Reedition. Repetition.
…………Repetition. Repetition. Repetition.
A space contained within another space. A fractal song. An infinite melody.
The foggiest idea.
*
I hear footsteps in the neighboring room. Not words. Slight sounds. Dubious murmurs in a spherical language. Airy syllables before a broken mirror. Encrusted cortex splinters. An archetypal orbit whirls beyond this emptiness. The drifting island’s silhouette.
Someone besieges me from the other side of these walls. Breathing like a blazing shadow comet. Someone else hears my footsteps there. Those murmurs. My coughing. Someone who, without knowing me, is already leaving an impression on me.
With eyes closed, I behold the softly-lit dimension.
*
Suspended moment
The bird contemplates the sea
From the garden pond.
*
What is the opposite of polishing?
I’m talking about stickiness. Superimposition. Purification-opposed ploys.
Instead of resolving tensions, focusing on their razor-sharp edges. Giving tribute to the scraps.
I’m talking about murky mixtures. Altered states. The corruption of sacred metaphors.
Distant domestic static murmurs are present. The universal frequency of Pandora’s beat box. Can anyone here hear my thoughts?
If I say I’m blanking out, it’s because I’m calling upon a garden razed to ashes.
*
There is a latent flourishing on my borders. A secret spring sustained by its auguries’ tension. Flowing through stalled mental mechanisms: palpable internal storms upon typing certain phrases. Sudden attacks on the island’s borders. Synthetic discharges.
If I woke up now – if this very moment I interrupted these visions’ outflow – in the suite’s yellow space, I could perceive the light swing of the cherry blossoms.
Translated by James Richie
