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jueves, 22 de noviembre de 2012

C. D. WRIGHT [8619]




Carolyn D. Wright
C. D. Wright nació en Mountain Home, Arkansas, ESTADOS UNIDOS. Obtuvo una licenciatura de la Memphis State College (ahora Universidad de Memphis) en 1971 y asistió a la escuela de leyes antes de salir a buscar un MFA de la Universidad de Arkansas, que recibió en 1976. 
Stephen Burt le ha descrito como un poeta elíptica .

PREMIOS:

John Reed, David Biespiel and Wright at the after party for the National Book Critics Circle Awards, March 2012
1987 Guggenheim Fellowship
1994 Poet Laureate of the state of Rhode Island
1999 Foundation for Contemporary Arts, grant
2004 MacArthur Fellowship
2009 Rising, Falling, Hovering winner Griffin Poetry Prize
2010 One With Others, nominee National Book Award (Poetry)
2010 One With Others, winner National Book Critics Circle Award (Poetry)

OBRAS:

1977: Room Rented By A Single Woman
1979: Terrorism
1981: Translation of the Gospel Back into Tongues (SUNY Press)
1986: Further Adventures with You (Carnegie Mellon)
1991: String Light (University of Georgia Press)
1993: Just Whistle (Kelsey Street Press)
1996: Tremble (Ecco)
1998: Deepstep Come Shining (Copper Canyon Press)
2002: Steal Away: New and Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press)(shortlisted for the 2003 International Griffin Poetry Prize)
2003: One Big Self: Prisoners of Louisiana (Twin Palms) with photographs by Deborah Luster
2005: Cooling Time: An American Poetry Vigil (Copper Canyon Press)
2008: Rising, Falling, Hovering (Copper Canyon Press)[8] (winner of the 2009 International Griffin Poetry Prize)
2009: 40 Watts (Octopus Books)
2010: One With Others (Copper Canyon Press)





Poema de la amiga # 2

Despierta y ven a nuestra casa
ven corriendo -----vuela si puedes

las puertas se abren de par en par
el hogar cobra nombre

hoy es el mejor día desde ayer
compartimos -----un sentido de ríos

la visión nos dejó asombradas
pensamos que era un sueño

los ojos los ojos
las cúpulas de oro que contemplaron

la desoladora sonrisa
el año que te casaste con el halcón

aquí una hora sigue a otra hora
un vaso de vino merece otro

bueno ----no es el paraíso
todo el mundo pisa el césped

al oscurecer ligeros de ropa
llaman a sus niños

todo el mundo tiene alguien
por quien llorar


[en CD Wright. Steal Away. New and Selected Poems. Port Townsend, WA: Copper Canyon Press, 2003]

TRADUCCIÓN by Marcos Canteli










Hay aquí suficientes signos de la ternura que falta
en el mundo. Y más aún. Todo lo que tienes que hacer es preguntar. Alguien
puede aquí alabar las virtudes de una cebolla que poner a la barbacoa,
picada, en tiras, o troceada. La hora del día en que ellos han
conocido la espina del amor.

Traducido por Rubén Pérez Trujillano  

de su libro Deepstep Come Shining (Los pasos profundos que vienen brillando, por ejemplo), de 1998.







Alla Breve Loving

Three people drinking out of the bottle
in the living room.
A cold rain. Quiet as a mirror.

One of the men
stuffs his handkerchief in his coat,
climbs the stairs with the girl.
The other man is left sitting

at the desk with the wine and the headache,
turning an old Ellington side
over in his mind. And over.

He held her like a saxophone
when she was his girl.
Her tongue trembling at the reed.

The man lying next to her now
thinks of another woman.
Her white breath idling

before he drove off.
He said something about a spell,
watching the snow fall on her shoulders.

The musician
crawls back into his horn,
ancient terrapin
at the approach of the wheel.





Approximately Forever

She was changing on the inside
it was true what had been written

The new syntax of love
both sucked and burned

The secret clung around them
She took in the smell

Walking down a road to nowhere
every sound was relevant

The sun fell behind them now
he seemed strangely moved

She would take her clothes off
for the camera

she said in plain english
but she wasn’t holding that snake





Everything Good between Men and Women

has been written in mud and butter
and barbecue sauce. The walls and
the floors used to be gorgeous.
The socks off-white and a near match.
The quince with fire blight
but we get two pints of jelly
in the end. Long walks strengthen
the back. You with a fever blister
and myself with a sty. Eyes
have we and we are forever prey
to each other’s teeth. The torrents
go over us. Thunder has not harmed
anyone we know. The river coursing
through us is dirty and deep. The left
hand protects the rhythm. Watch
your head. No fires should be
unattended. Especially when wind. Each
receives a free swiss army knife.
The first few tongues are clearly
preparatory. The impression
made by yours I carry to my grave. It is
just so sad so creepy so beautiful.
Bless it. We have so little time
to learn, so much... The river
courses dirty and deep. Cover the lettuce.
Call it a night. O soul. Flow on. Instead.






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