Está aquí: la transliteración del primer poema de La verdad que no vemos, poema que da el título al libro y que da la clave de lectura y también de cosmovisión de este primer periplo.
Dos meses tratando de transliterarlo al inglés, que no traducirlo, para poder compartir este gran pedazo de mí con los colegas, amigos y poetas con los que me separa la frontera de la lengua en este ámbito que es parte prácticamente constitutiva de mí misma.
No hace falta que asegure que no es tarea fácil. El poema ha pasado también por varias manos y mentes, en forma de traducción y en forma de comentarios y sugerencias (mi agradecimiento es infinito y eso ellos ya lo saben), para afinar con exactitud lo que expresa el poema renunciando a lo mínimo que cambiar de lengua ya supone. Siempre hay que renunciar a algunos matices, ¡y qué específica soy yo con los matices y cuán difícil me es soltarlos para hacerme entender en otra lengua. Por eso, elijo quedarme con una transliteración y no con una traducción, no solo porque no soy capaz de traducir poesía (¡pocos lo son!), sino para no perder casi nada, aunque el hecho de pasarlo a otra lengua supone una pérdida (también una ganancia, aunque no sea esta vez el caso).
No es la primera vez que me autotranslitero a una lengua extranjera. Lo hice en Canadá, con extraños resultados, pues lo que en castellano me eran versos ordinarios sintácticamente, en inglés resultaban de una complejidad sintáctica que rozaba lo ultrapoético y que imprimía en mí un estilo que no me pertenece. También traté alguna vez de escribir con dos cabezas propias de forma paralela, cada una en una lengua distinta.
Ahora han pasado algunos años y son demasiados los colegas con quienes quiero compartir esta parte de mí, aunque me bastaría una sola persona. Este que sigue es el poema transliterado. Considérenlo un borrador definitivo, pero borrador al fin y al cabo.
Está aquí:
The truth we don't see (transliteration of the poem 'La verdad que no vemos')
*English version*
It is here: the transliteration of the first poem of La verdad que no vemos, the poem that gives the title to the book and gives the reading key as well as the worldview of this first journey.
Two months trying to transliterate it into English, rather than translate it, in order to share this great piece of me with colleagues, friends and poets with whom the border of language separates me in this area, which is practically a constitutive part of myself.
There's no need to say that it’s not an easy task. The poem also passed through several hands and minds, in the form of translation and in the form of comments and suggestions (my gratitude is infinite and they already know that), to refine exactly what the poem expresses, giving up the minimum that changing from one language to another already does. You always have to give up some nuances, and how specific am I with nuances, and how hard it’s for me just letting go them to make myself understood in another language. For this reason, I choose to go with a transliteration and not with a translation. It’s not only because I am not capable of translating poetry (few people are!), but so as not to lose almost anything, although the fact of transferring it to another language is a loss (also a profit, although this is not the case this time).
It’s not the first time that I autotransliterate to a foreign language. I did it in Canada, with strange results, because what in Spanish were syntactically ordinary verses, in English resulted from a syntactic complexity that bordered on the ultra-poetic and imprinted on me a style that did not belong to me. I also once tried to write with two heads of my own in parallel, each in a different language.
Now a few years have passed and there are too many colleagues with whom I want to share this part of myself, although only one person would be enough for me. This that follows is the transliterated poem. Consider it a definite draft, but a draft after all.
Here it is:
The truth we don't see (transliteration of the poem 'La verdad que no vemos')
There's no need to say that it’s not an easy task. The poem also passed through several hands and minds, in the form of translation and in the form of comments and suggestions (my gratitude is infinite and they already know that), to refine exactly what the poem expresses, giving up the minimum that changing from one language to another already does. You always have to give up some nuances, and how specific am I with nuances, and how hard it’s for me just letting go them to make myself understood in another language. For this reason, I choose to go with a transliteration and not with a translation. It’s not only because I am not capable of translating poetry (few people are!), but so as not to lose almost anything, although the fact of transferring it to another language is a loss (also a profit, although this is not the case this time).
It’s not the first time that I autotransliterate to a foreign language. I did it in Canada, with strange results, because what in Spanish were syntactically ordinary verses, in English resulted from a syntactic complexity that bordered on the ultra-poetic and imprinted on me a style that did not belong to me. I also once tried to write with two heads of my own in parallel, each in a different language.
Now a few years have passed and there are too many colleagues with whom I want to share this part of myself, although only one person would be enough for me. This that follows is the transliterated poem. Consider it a definite draft, but a draft after all.
Here it is:
The truth we don't see (transliteration of the poem 'La verdad que no vemos')
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