(the gates)
now I am here
wind shoves dunes
infuriates sea
drags sky
flings drawn-out howls
the air violent
expression subversive
it passes leaving me alert in this wobbling Logbook
I inhabit
in my travel diary I take notes
unable to speak it aloud
I write what the windstorm leaves naked
I point to the storehouse of memories where a three-masted
vessel shudders
shoved around by another squall
so ancient
waves and pastures rustle
and secured shutters slam
against the walls
silence, expectant
huddled
tacks closer
—a deadly fish risen from the deep?
—the faintest lethal gas?
total silence
now I am here
and all the gates have opened
I feel eternity’s breath
(las puertas)
ahora estoy aquí
el viento empuja las dunas
enfurece el mar
arrastra el cielo
lanza largos bramidos
violento el aire
subversivo el gesto
pasa dejándome alerta en la precaria Bitácora
que habito
en el cuaderno de viaje anoto
sin poderlo decir
escribo lo que el vendaval desnuda
señalo el baúl memorioso donde tiembla
un velero de tres palos
empujado por otra borrasca
muy antigua
crujen las olas y los pastos
y los postigones amarrados golpean
contra los muros
el silencio espectante
agazapado
navega acercándose
¿un mortífero pez de las profundidades?
¿un gas letal livianísimo?
silencio completo
ahora estoy aquí
y todas las puertas se han abierto
siento el aliento de la eternidad
(black glass pane)
for Luis Bravo
the cone from the lamp puts me into focus
closer
more defined
I see me and they see me
with its phantom the image will tighten up its circles
and now I don’t know whether to drape solace over it
the box from a chair frames rain
on the black glass pane
the tree in darkness
lists from the other side across my shoulder
its glare covered in threads
—the window is a peephole
an ink dragon—
the ringdove hanging behind me
projects a yellow coil
and phosphorus pellets singe its wings
—repeat—
the black glass pane envelops us, malevolent:
the window is a hooded cell
a photographic stare
a revolver
the cone from the lamp focuses on me
she’s wearing red she’s sitting down she’s writing
once in a while she looks at the window
at the rain on its black glass pane
they take aim at her:
she’s a perfect target
(el vidrio negro)
a Luis Bravo
el cono de la lámpara me pone a foco
más cerca
más nítida
me veo y me ven
la imagen con fantasma ajustará sus círculos
y no sé si cubrirla ya con un paño de lágrimas
el recuadro de una silla enmarca la lluvia
sobre el vidrio negro
el árbol en lo oscuro
inclina del otro lado sobre mi hombro
su brillo cubierto de hilos
—la ventana es un ojo
un dragón de tinta—
esa torcaza colgada a mis espaldas
proyecta una espiral amarilla
y mostacillas de fósforo le queman las alas
—se repite—
el vidrio negro nos envuelve malignamente:
la ventana es una célula encapuchada
una mirada fotográfica
un revólver
el cono de la lámpara me pone a foco
está sentada vestida de rojo escribiendo
mira de vez en cuando la ventana
la lluvia sobre el vidrio negro
le apuntan:
es un blanco perfecto
Amanda Berenguer (1921-2010) was a vital presence in Uruguayan literary life for more than six decades. Berenguer is the most multifaceted, restless poet of the “Generation of 1945,” known around the world for its energetic experimentation. Her first book appeared in Montevideo in 1940, followed by a steady stream of collections recognized for their excellence. Among her awards for the book from which these poems are taken, La Dama de Elche, are a first prize for poetry from the Uruguayan Ministry of Education and Culture, first prize in the Concurso Literario de la Intendencia Municipal de Montevideo, and the Premio Bartolomé Hidalgo for the second edition of the same collection in 1990. Berenguer’s lifelong dedication to the arts included work with little presses and radio programming, as well as collaborations with dancers and musicians. In 2019 Ugly Duckling Presse published Materia Prima, a bilingual anthology introducing highlights from Amanda Berenguer’s poetic career to readers of English; co-edited by Kristin Dykstra and Kent Johnson, this team-translated book was a Finalist for the Best Translated Book Award in 2020. Forthcoming from Veliz Books in 2023, The Lady of Elche is the first individual poetry collection by Berenguer to appear in full in English.
Kristin Dykstra is a writer, literary translator, and scholar. Her translation of Amanda Berenguer’s collection, The Lady of Elche, is forthcoming from Veliz Books in 2023. Dykstra’s poetry collection Dissonance: Its Ridgelines / Disonancia: Perfil de laderas, tr. Tina Escaja, is also forthcoming. Dykstra is principal translator of The Winter Garden Photograph (Ugly Duckling Presse), by Reina María Rodríguez, Winner of the 2020 PEN Award for Poetry in Translation and Finalist for the National Translation Award. With Kent Johnson she co-edited Materia Prima, a team-translated anthology featuring Berenguer (also from Ugly Duckling), Finalist for the 2020 Best Translated Book Award. Dykstra’s poems appear in recent issues of Lana Turner, Almost Island, Clade Song, Seedings; bilingually in La Noria, El Nieuwe Acá, and Distropika (tr. Escaja), and in Acrobata (tr. Floriano Martins). Her translations and reviews appeared in a variety of venues in 2021-2, some of which are Astra, Big Other, Latin American Literature Today, The Common, Two Lines, Chicago Review, and The Rumpus.