La mujer escribe y eso es lo que importa










20 de mayo de 2013

Mina Loy, Parto (+2)


Fotografía de Alva Bernadine



PARTO

Soy el centro
De un círculo de dolor
Que rebasa sus límites en todas direcciones.

El asunto del sol anodino
Nada tiene que ver conmigo
En mi congestionado cosmos de agonía
De donde no hay escape
Con vibraciones nerviosas infinitamente prolongadas
O con contracciones
Hasta el preciso núcleo del ser

Localiza una irritación   fuera
Está                                dentro
                                       Dentro 
Está fuera
El área sensibilizada
Es idéntica     a la extensión
De la intensión

Soy la falsa cantidad
En la armonía de la potencialidad fisiológica...


(FRAGMENTO/tras dar a luz a su hija Jemima Fabienne Cravan)




PARTURITION

I am the centre
Of a circle of pain
Exceeding its boundaries in every direction
The business of the bland sun
Has no affair with me
In my congested cosmos of agony
From which there is no escape
On infinitely prolonged nerve-vibrations
Or in contraction
To the pinpoint nucleus of being
Locate an irritation without
It is within
Within
It is without.
The sensitized area
Is identical with the extensity
Of intension

I am the false quantity
In the harmony of physiological potentiality
To which
Gaining self-control
I should be consonant
In time

Pain is no stronger than the resisting force
Pain calls up in me
The struggle is equal

The open window is full of a voice
A fashionable portrait painter
Running upstairs to a woman’s apartment
Sings
“All the girls are tid’ly did’ly
All the girls are nice
Whether they wear their hair in curls
Or —”
At the back of the thoughts to which I permit crystallization
The conception Brute
Why?
The irresponsibility of the male
Leaves woman her superior Inferiority.

He is running upstairs
I am climbing a distorted mountain of agony
Incidentally with the exhaustion of control
I reach the summit
And gradually subside into anticipation of
Repose
Which never comes.
For another mountain is growing up
Which goaded by the unavoidable
I must traverse
Traversing myself

Something in the delirium of night hours
Confuses while intensifying sensibility
Blurring spatial contours
So aiding elusion of the circumscribed
That the gurgling of a crucified wild beast
Comes from so far away
And the foam on the stretched muscles of a mouth
Is no part of myself
There is a climax in sensibility
When pain surpassing itself
Becomes exotic
And the ego succeeds in unifying the positive and
negative poles of sensation
Uniting the opposing and resisting forces
In lascivious revelation

Relaxation
Negation of myself as a unit
Vacuum interlude
I should have been emptied of life
Giving life
For consciousness in crises races
Through the subliminal deposits of evolutionary processes

Have I not
Somewhere
Scrutinized
A dead white feathered moth
Laying eggs?

A moment
Being realization
Can
Vitalized by cosmic initiation
Furnish an adequate apology
For the objective
Agglomeration of activities
Of a life
LIFE
A leap with nature
Into the essence
Of unpredicted Maternity
Against my thigh
Tough of infinitesimal motion
Scarcely perceptible
Undulation
Warmth moisture

Stir of incipient life
Precipitating into me
The contents of the universe
Mother I am
Identical
With infinite Maternity
Indivisible
Acutely
I am absorbed
Into
The was-is-ever-shall-be
Of cosmic reproductivity

Rises from the subconscious
Impression of a cat
With blind kittens
Among her legs
Same undulating life-stir
I am that cat

Rises from the subconscious
Impression of small animal carcass
Covered with blue bottles
— Epicurean –
And through the insects
Waves that same undulation of living
Death
Life
I am knowing
All about
Unfolding

The next morning
Each woman-of-the-people
Tiptoeing the red pile of the carpet
Doing hushed service
Each woman-of-the-people
Wearing a halo
A ludicrous little halo
Of which she is sublimely unaware

I once heard in a church
— Man and woman God made them —
Thank God.





Fotografía de Maia Flore



CANTOS A JOANNES




III

Podríamos haber copulado
Durante el monopolio encamado de un momento
O habernos roto las carnes uno al otro
Sobre la mesa de comunión profana
Donde el vino se vierte en labios promiscuos

Podríamos haber dado a luz una mariposa
Con las noticias del periódico
Impresas con sangre en sus alas.


XVI

Podríamos haber vivido juntos
en las luces del Arno
o haber ido a robar manzanas bajo el mar
o jugado
al escondite entre amor y telarañas
y tocado una nana con una cacerola.

Y   conversado hasta quedarnos sin lenguas
para conversar
y no haber sabido nunca hacerlo de otra forma.





Mina Loy - Mina Gertrude Löwry
(Londres, Inglaterra, 1882/ Aspen,EE.UU., 1966) 
Nacionalizada Norteamericana
de Antología poética, Edición bilingüe, 
Colección La Rama Dorada Poesía, Huerga & Fierro, 2009
Traducción y edición crítica de Esther Sánchez-Pardo
para leer una NOTA
para leer MÁS

4 comentarios:

Vera Eikon dijo...

Me encantaron. Tengo que leer más de ella....Beso.

Miriam Tessore dijo...

Hola Vera, buen día! no tengo ningún libro de ella, la encontré leyendo en la web, una mujer bella, con una vida muy interesante, una artista que, entre otras tantas cosas, escribía. Hay poemas sueltos por ahí. Un abrazo enorme (me alegra que te guste!)

Blue dijo...

Me gustó mucho el segundo poema.
Besos.

Miriam Tessore dijo...

El segundo poema Blue, son 2 diferentes dentro de varios que componen "Cantos a Joannes" (que no pude encontrarlos).

Es muy interesante todo de esta mujer.

Un abrazo

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