Juan Antonio González-Iglesias
Poet and painter, Juan Antonio González-Iglesias is Associate Professor in the Classics Department at the University of Salamanca. Among his published books are La hermosura del héroe (“The Beauty of the Hero,” 1993), Ensayando círculos (“Practicing Circles,” 1997) Vayamos hacia el norte aunque sea dando la vuelta por el sur (“Let’s Go North, Even If by Going South,” 2001) Más hermosura (“More Beauty,” 2002) "Eros es más" (“Eros is More,” 2007).
This translation is published in Make It New for the first time. Grateful acknowledgment to Viorica Patea for submitting the poem and translation to our magazine. (N. Ed.)
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UN POEMA ES MEJOR QUE GOOGLE MAPS
Debes ir una tarde de domingo …. Que no te encante el mar y sus sirenas …. Détente y calla mucho mientras miras
Llevamos ya viviendo algunos meses en su ciudad. Hoy vamos a su casa. Ni el plano de papel ni el de smartphone valen para este hermoso laberinto. Nos vamos a orientar con un poema. Un poema es mejor que Google Maps, claro poema, donde se ve todo en relieve, los muros, los jardines las cúpulas mas bellas. Como nautas armados de tarjeta Imob, de sílabas, partimos del marmóreo embarcadero de Ca d'Oro, atrás quédese su frágil tracería de ojivas y trilóbulos, surquemos el Canal Grande sin prisa, prestando al canto de cada sirena la atención de los sueños, singladura preciosa en una línea tan quebrada que no se olvida de ángulo ninguno para alzar una única belleza, parteluces, dinteles, campaniles, puentes y altanas, no hay itinerario mas rico en esta Tierra. Hasta este punto. Hasta esta albicante escalinata tocada por el mar, de la Salute. Sin rumbo, estamos cerca, bordeamos La punta anclada, la impaciente proa de la Dogana. Salen de un portal unos vecinos, pero no conocen a aquel americano enamorado de Europa, el que logró escapar de alli fingiendo no estar loco y no estar cuerdo. Aquí son las gaviotas y los gatos los que nos guían. Es aquí. Las líneas hablan de amor que no se extingue nunca. Questa casa abitò per mezzo secolo. Esta sencillla casa. Del buzón sobresale un polícromo folleto con las ofertas de un hipermercado. Grandes fotografías de productos con los precios en euros. Sotto costo. Nos parece un cuademo literario, edición no venal, raro tesoro. Callamos en la tarde de domingo. Callamos mucho mientras contemplamos. Soul melts into air, anima into aura. A una sola palabra hemos llegado. Un poema es mejor que Google Maps, mejor que Google Earth. La callejuela con macetas, agua verdeante, el lugar en el mundo, en este encuentro con Ezra Pound. |
A POEM IS BETTER THAN GOOGLE MAPS
You should go on a Sunday evening …. Do not be trapped by the mermaids and the sea …. Stop and be silent, while you look
We have been living some months in his city. Today we go to his house. Neither the folded paper map, nor the smartphone can help us in this beautiful labyrinth. We will orient ourselves with a poem. A poem is better than Google Maps, a clear poem, in which everything is seen in relief, the walls, the gardens, the most beautiful domes. Like seamen armed with an Imob card, with syllables, we depart from the marble dock of Ca d'Oro, leaving its delicate tracery of ogives and trilobes behind, we shall slowly plough the Grand Canal, heeding, as in a dream, the song of every siren, a gorgeous voyage in a line so broken that we shall not forget the smallest angle of incomparable beauty, mullions, lintels, campanilles, bridges and temples, there is no itinerary richer on this Earth. Up to this point. To this white stairway touched by the sea, of the Salute. Wandering aimlessly, coming near, we skirt the anchored point, the impatient bow of the Dogana. Some neighbors emerge from a portal, but they do not know that American enamored of Europe, the one who managed to escape from there by feigning that he was not mad and was not sane. Here seagulls and cats are our guides. This is it. The lines speak of love that can never be extinguished. Questa casa abitò per mezzo secolo. A simple house. From the mailbox a polychrome pamphlet sticks out with offers from a supermarket. Garish pictures of products with prices in euros. Sotto costo. It seems to us to be a literary notebook not a venal publication, a rare treasure. We stand there silent on a Sunday afternoon. We stand there silent, and we contemplate. Soul melts into air, anima into aura. We’ve arrived at a single word. A poem is better than Google Maps, Better than Google Earth. The alleyway With flowerpots, greenish water, this place in the world, in this encounter With Ezra Pound.
Translated by Paul Scott Derrick and Viorica Patea, 2017 |