Mantis 21 (Summer 2023)
Translations

Carolina Esses

translated from Spanish by Allison deFreese

Amiga, nunca tuve buena memoria

 

pero ahora apenas recuerdo
la idea del viaje.
Deberíamos haber previsto
esta inconsistencia de la voluntad
este desgano. Hubiese sido necesario
un documento escrito, algo más
que tu voz ensayada para recorrer distancias.

Intento recordar, no creas que no lo hago
pero apenas repito alguna de nuestras palabras
ella cae a mis pies, como una piedra.
Desde aquí solo puedo ver un pino, una liebre,
un refugio apenas habitable. Y no es el mío.

Entonces me escondo en el invernadero.
Soy una planta más enredada entre sus propias raíces
y espero a que ella, jardinera hábil y paciente,
se incline sobre mis hojas
como sobre su propio alimento.
Si vinieras, me encontrarías
en el hueco de su mano.


Amiga, ¿dónde quedaba mi casa?

¿y de qué lado de la calle debíamos encontrarnos?
El ómnibus que me lleva de vuelta
va paralelo a un bosque
luego veo un descampado.
La mayor parte del viaje sueño con un tren
que lleva mujeres vestidas de verde. Yo voy de rojo,
tengo un hijo que envuelvo entre mi saco
pero desaparece cuando despierto.
¿Serías mi hijo? ¿Podría acunarte
como me acunaba el bosque?

My memory was never any good, my friend

 

but now I can barely remember
the reason for this trip.
We should have foreseen
our inconsistent motivation,
this lack of enthusiasm. We should have
put something in writing, had something more
than your measured voice to span distance.

I’m trying to remember, don’t think I’m not,
but I’ve barely repeated any of our words
that fall like stones at my feet.
From here, I only see a pine tree, a hare,
a barely habitable shelter. A refuge not my own.

So I hide in the greenhouse
just another plant tangled in my own roots
waiting for her, for the graceful, patient gardener
to lean over my leaves
and nourish herself.
If you appeared now, you would find me
cupped in the palm of her hand.

Where does my house sit, my friend?

and on what side of the street shall we meet?
The bus that takes me back follows the edge of the forest,
then I see an open field.
For most of the trip, I dream of a train
that carries women dressed in green. I’m in red,
a child wrapped in my jacket,
but he disappears when I awaken.
Will you be my son? Can I rock you to sleep
like the forest rocks me to sleep?

Writer and journalist CAROLINA ESSES was born in Buenos Aires and lives in Bariloche (Argentina). She has published several books including Versiones del paraíso/Variations on Paradise (Del Dock, 2016), Temporada de invierno/Winter Season (Bajo la luna, 2009, translation by Allison A. deFreese forthcoming by Entre Ríos Books, Seattle, in late 2023). Her poems have previously been translated into French and have appeared in the anthology Poésie récente d’Argentine, une anthologie possible/Recent Poetry from Argentina: a Possible Anthology, published by Editorial Reflet de Lettres. She is also author of several novels and has been literary critic for La Nación, Argentina’s leading daily paper, for many years.

Based in the U.S. Pacifc Northwest, ALLISON A. DEFREESE leads literary translation workshops for the Oregon Society of Translators and Interpreters. Her work appears in Crazyhorse / swamp pink, Gulf Coast, Harvard Review, and New England Review. Her translation of Carolina Esses’s book Winter Season (Temporada de invierno) is forthcoming from Entre Ríos Books (Seattle) in 2023.