A Spanish journey

A SPANISH JOURNEY

Kristin Black

TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction 5-7 BLANCA ANDREU 8

… Amor mío, amor mío, mira mi boca de vitriolo 9 … My love, my love, my mouth look vitriol (translated) 10… Dos 11… Two (translated) 12

CHANTAL MAILLARD 13… Anduve por el dorso de tu mano, confiada… 14… I was in the back of your hand, trustful… (translated) 15… Axis mundi 16

… Axis mundi (translated) 17

TABLE OF CONTENTS LEOPOLDO MARíA PANERO 18

… Haiku 19… Haiku (translated) 20… La oración 21… Prayer (translated) 22

ANA ROSSETTI 23… Yesterday 24… Yesterday (translated) 25… Sálvame 26… Save me (translated) 27

TABLE OF CONTENTS LUISA CASTRO 28

… Inocencia 29… Innocence (translated) 30… Sobre ti, sobre todo. Sobre lo que es locura… 31… About you, above all. On what is madness… 32

Works Cited 33-34

* Translations done by Microsoft Translate

A SPANISH JOURNEY: THROUGH THE WORDS OF A POET“Surrounded on three and one-half sides by water and

connected to France by a relatively narrow strip of mountainous land, Spain has historically been isolated and inaccessible.” (Chandler) That being said, it goes hand in hand with where Spanish Literature began. The isolation gave hope for a wild imagination in the world of Literature.

“The Spanish genius is largely undisciplined, impetuous, uncalculating, and given to quick improvising and verbosity. It often scatters its energies over many pieces rather than concentrating heavily on one. This inclination to improvise rather than refine and polish may have reduced the number of the Spanish masterpieces , but it has freed the Spanish writer for astonishing flights and great outburst of passion and exuberance. Improvisation doe not necessarily mean carelessness, and one is often amazed that so much good work can come from the pen of a single author.” (9 Chandler) 

.

Spain, an isolated country with a passion for life, began it’s quest to introduce extraordinary Spanish literature long ago, that dates back to the Medieval ages. “Historically and culturally” (1 Chandler) the center of what is considered Spanish lays Castile, the first official language of Spain. However, today, Spanish is considered the official language of Spain. The different eras include Early Middle Ages, Later Middle Ages, After 1492, The Golden Century, Romanticism, 1889-1926, 1927-1936, 1939-1975, 1975-present. 

Several award winning poets from the “1975-present” era include those of: Blanca Andreu, Chantal Maillard, Leopoldo Maria Panero, Ana Rossetti and Luisa Castro. These select few, share similar characteristics and a great passion for literature. For example: Blanca Andreu has been shown to use “dreamlike imagery”, “fragmented syntax”, and a “highly challenging use of language.” (Sherno) Sylvia Sherno mentions “Whether Andreu is defending language as inherently possessed f meaning, of lamenting language’s incapacity to convey meaning, all of her work is unified by a desire for truth and spiritual illumination.” (Sherno) Maillard, Panero, Rossetti and Castro genuinely share the visual imagery demonstrated above.

Characteristics of Spanish Literature include Democracy, Stoicism, humor, dignity and honor. Spanish literature could be portrayed in a democratic nature, since it relates the folk legends and drama. Stoicism has been around for quite some time. “The Spaniard maintains a stoic attitude towards life’s joys and adversities and faces death serenely.” (10 Chandler) Humor is a large part of the Spanish lifestyle. Lastly, dignity and honor weigh heavy to a Spaniard and at times can be exaggerated to help one feel appreciated.  

In modern times, Spanish literature seems to carry most of the same characteristics as traditionally mentioned. “The virility, sobriety, generosity, dignity, honor, adventure, romance, nobility, hospitality, independence, faith and all the other qualities that together represent the genuine Spanish spirit that are found in Spain’s epic poetry in pure form.” (28 Chandler) The beginning of the 20th century is when Modernism was established. This new form of literature overtook Realism. Modernism, appeared in the Hispanic culture towards the end of the 19th century and has carried on. Poetry today shares similar characteristics with those from many years ago. The symbolic gestures, erotic tendencies, and extreme detail show that even though Spaniards are tucked away in a secluded country, their imagination runs wild.

BLANCA ANDREU

Blanca Andreu was born in 1959 in La Coruna, Spain. Andreu, a spanish poet, grew up in Orihuela, where her family still resides today. Andreu went to El Colegio de Jesus-Maria de San Agustin. Andreu moved to Madrid at the age of 20. She married a novelist named Juan Benet in 1985. After her husbands death, Andreu relocated back to La Coruna. Andreu won several awards that include: Premio Adonais de Poesia and Gabriel Miro Prize Stories.

BLANCA ANDREUAmor mío, amor mío, mira mi boca de vitriolo...

Amor mío, amor mío, mira mi boca de vitrioloy mi garganta de cicuta jónica,mira la perdiz de ala rota que carece de casa y muerepor los desiertos de tomillo de Rimbaud,mira los árboles como nervios crispados del díallorando agua de guadaña.

Esto es lo que yo veo en la hora lisa de abril,también en la capilla del espejo esto veo,y no puedo pensar en las palomas que habitan la palabra                                                                                     Alejandríani escribir cartas para Rilke el poeta.

1980

BLANCA ANDREUMy love, my love, my mouth looks vitriol ...

My love, my love, my mouth looks vitriol hemlock and my throat Ionian Partridge looks broken wing that has no home and dies the deserts of thyme Rimbaud, look at the trees and frayed nerves of the day water crying scythe.

This is what I see in April when smooth, in the Chapel of the mirror that I see, I can not think of the pigeons that live in the word Alexandria or write letters to the poet Rilke.

1980

BLANCA ANDREU

Y casi espíritu de fuego, casi la empuñadura de una idea del fuegoaire de pájaro o espada, pero espía,en tu interior hay ciervos y prodigios,acaso un charco de oro.

1984

Dos

BLANCA ANDREU

And almost spirit of fire, almost the grip of an idea of fireAir bird or sword, but spy,There are deer and wonders, in your interiorPerhaps a puddle of gold.

1984 

Two

CHANTAL MAILLARD

Chantal Maiillard was born in Brussels in 1951. Maillard holds a PhD in pure philosophy and teaches Philosophy at the University of Malaga. Awards given to Maillard include: Ricardo Molina Prize, Award Santa Cruz de La Palma, and National Prize of literature.

CHANTAL MAILLARD Anduve por el dorso de tu mano, confiada,como quien anda en las colinasseguro de que el viento existe,de que la tierra es firme,de la repetición eterna de las cosas.Mas de repente tembló el universo:llevaste la mano a tus labiosy bostezando abriste la nochecomo una gruta cálida.

Llevabas diez mil siglos despertandoy el fuego ardía impaciente en tu boca.1990

Anduv

e por

el do

rso de

tu m

ano,

confi

ada..

.

CHANTAL MAILLARD I was in the back of your hand, trustful,

as who walks in the hillssure the wind there,that the Earth is firm,the eternal repetition of things.But suddenly shook the

universe:took the hand to your lipsand yawning opened the nightas a warm cave. Had ten thousand centuries

awakeningand the fire burned impatient in

your mouth. 1990

I was

in th

e bac

k of y

our h

and,

trustf

ul…

CHANTAL MAILLARD Desciendo

desciendo al cuerpo y veola lombriz de mi espíritualojada en mi vientre.Subo, subo en espiralhacia el motor del mundohuyendohuyendo del mareodel mal de ser solatan sola entre las víscerassubo al latidome alojoen su arritmia y descubromi rostro de lombrizadherida a las válvulasy asciendosigo ascendiendo en buscade una razón que dierasentido a mi existenciame deslizo en la tráqueabloqueo las palabrasasciendo

resbalo. Hay un aguaviscosa tras los ojosresbalo y se me peganimágenes de un mundoapenas insinuadoasciendo y al llegara la cúpula descubroque sus paredes lisastransparentes, vacíastienen la texturacarnosa de mi vientre.He bajado al espírituhe subido al instinto.La misma lombriz tensael eje que mantieneerguida mi cintura.El nombre que le pongaahora será el tuyopero su nombre es elde aquellos que he amadode aquellos que amarées todos y ningunoel eje que mantieneerguida mi cinturame previene de ti te crea a mi medida

y asume el retode ser muchosde ser tantosque da la impresiónque no cabrá mi espírituadentro de este cuerpoque no cabrá este cuerpoadentro de mi espíritupor eso muero un pococada vez que te nombroy sin nombrarte apenasalcanzo a definirme.Mi vientre es quien pronuncialas sílabas secretasque se inscriben arribaen la cúpula.Mi existencia es señalde un fuegoque arde eternamenteen sí mismo.

2002

Axis

m

und

i

CHANTAL MAILLARD

I descendI descend into the body and seethe worm of my spirithosted on my belly.Climb, climb spiraltowards the engine in the worldfleeingfleeing from dizzinessthe evil of being singleas one between the visceraI go to the beatI'm Iin his arrhythmia and discovermy face of earthwormattached to the valvesand I ascendI'm still climbing in searcha reason to givemeaning to my life

I slip into the tracheablocked wordsascendI slip. There is a waterviscose after eyesI slip and I stickimages of a worldbarely hinted atI ascend and arrivingthe dome I discoverthat its smooth wallstransparent, emptythey have the texturefleshy my belly.I downloaded the spiritI've uploaded the instinct.The same tense wormthe axis that maintainserect my waist.The name put youwill now be yours

but his name is theof those I've lovedof those that I loveis all and nonethe axis that maintainserect my waistme prevents youyou create my customand takes the challengeIf manyIf so manythat gives the impressionthat does not fit my spiritinside of this bodythat does not fit this bodyinside of my spiritthat is why I die a littleeverytime you namedand without naming you justI have time to define me.My stomach is who deliverssecret syllablesyou join upin the dome.My existence is a signof a fireit burns eternallyin its own right.

2002

Axis

m

und

i

LEOPOLDO MARIA PANERO

Leopoldo Maria Panero comes from a histroy of poets that include his father, Leopoldo Panero and his brother Juan luis Panero. Panero was born in Madrid in 1948 and carried a history of drugs and alcohol abuse. Panero has been considered a narrator, translator and poet.

Si no es ahora ¿cuándo moriré?Si no es ahora que me he perdido en mediodel camino de mi vida, y voypreguntando a los hombres quién soy, ypara qué mi nombre, si no es ahora¿cuándo moriré?Si no es ahora que aúllan los lobos a mi puertasi no es ahora que aúllan los lobos de la muertesi no es ahora que está como caídomi nombre al pie de mí, y boquea, y preguntaa Dios por qué nací: si no es ahora¿cuándo moriré?

1980

LEOPOLDO MARIA PANEROHAIKU

LEOPOLDO MARIA PANERO

If not now when I will die?If it is not now that I lost in the Middlethe road of my life, and I'llasking men who I am, andfor what my name, if it is not nowWhen will I die?If it is not now that howl the wolves at my doorIf it is not now that howl the Wolves of deathIf it is not now that it is as a fallenmy name at the bottom of me, and boquea, and wonderedGod was born why: if not nowWhen will I die?

1980

HAIKU

LEOPOLDO MARIA PANERO Y la Madre reprendió al niño, y dijoqué haces que no velas el cadávery él puso su boca en aquel falo, ysorbió lentamente como de un alimentoporque el muerto ese era el inciensoque purificaba lossabidos hedores del teatro, suturbia agonía de modo que al crepúsculo la madre repetíade golpe despertando del sueño Hijo mío ve y miraal fondo para saber si duerme o si nos piensay no te olvides nunca de velar el cadáver:que nos absuelva, dile, que hemos vivido muchoy tropezamos ya con los muebles, y el alma estápodrida, y hueledemasiado, demasiado: ve y mira si nos piensay el hijo sorbía de aquel ano abierto.1980

LA ORACIÓN

LEOPOLDO MARIA PANERO

And the mother chastised the boy, and saidyou do not candles corpseand he put his mouth in the phallus, andsorbió slowly from foodbecause the dead that was the incensewhich purificaba theknown odor of the theatre, itsmurky agony so at twilight mother repeatedsuddenly waking from sleep my son sees and watchesto know if he sleeps or if we intend to fundand don't forget never ensure the corpse:us absuelva, tell him, that we have experienced muchWe already have the furniture and the soul isrotten, and smellstoo, too: go and see if we thinkand the son sorbía that open anus.1980

PRAYER

ANA ROSSETTI

Ana Rossetti was born in 1950 in a town called Cadiz. She is known for one of the most “lush female vocals of Spanish Literature”. “An exuberant advocate of Eros, Rossetti gives us a poetry that is powered by a ravenous sexual energy that bodies fourth in an explicit syntax of the human anatomy” (p1 of JSTOR ) Rossetti’s poetic journey began in the 1980’s , and to later include essays, novels, and short stories. Rossetti has won numerous awards that include the Gules Award in 1980.

ANA ROSSETTIYesterdayEs tan adorable introducirmeen su lecho, y que mi mano viajeradescanse, entre sus piernas, descuidada,y al desenvainar la columna tersasu cimera encarnada y jugosatendrá el sabor de las fresas, picantepresenciar la inesperada expresiónde su anatomía que no sabe usar,mostrarle el sonrosado engarceal indeciso dedo, mientras en pérfidasy precisas dosis se le administra audacia. Es adorable pervertira un muchacho, extraerle del vientrevirginal esa rugiente ternuratan parecida al estertor finalde un agonizante, que es imposibleno irlo matando mientras eyacula.

1988

ANA ROSSETTIYesterday

It is so adorable to introduce meon his deathbed, and that my hand travelingrest between his legs, careless,and to desenvainar the smooth columnhis heraldic toenail and juicyYou will have the spicy taste of strawberrieswitness the unexpected expressionAnatomy which do not know how to use,show the sonrosado crimpto the indecisive finger, while in eviland precise doses given boldness. It is lovely to perverta boy, extract bellyvirginal that roaring tendernessso similar to the final death rattleof a dying, that it is impossiblenot go killing while ejaculates. 1988

ANA

ROSSETTIMis ojos, por tu cuerpo reclamados,de su hermosura avisan, amplio torso devastany en la estrecha cadera contiénense aturdidos.Sin indulgencia alguna muestran al labio hambriento,de cerezas mordientes, la semillay al igual que mis dedos el más ardiente rocede tu piel se presagia, de la amatista intrusae irisado pezón, en mi confusa lenguaavívase su tacto.Las feroces punzadas de un turbador augurioprocura apaciguar mi inasaltado vientre,pero es vano el combate del que ya ha sido herido.Y es un abismo el goce, el anhelo locura,es tu nombre invocado amarga extenuacióny tu cuerpo inminente rigurosa medidade mi infierno.De este insaciable afán dicen que has de salvarme.Pero lo cierto es que enfebrecida aguardoy que puedo morir antes de que me toques.

Sálvame

1988

ANA

ROSSETTI Save meMy eyes, your body claimed,its beauty alert, wide torso devastateand in the narrow hip contiénense stunned.Without any leniency shown to the hungry lip,mordientes cherry, seedand like my fingers more hot rubbingIt foreshadows your skin of intrusive Amethystand irised nipple in my confusing languageenliven your touch.The ferocious pangs of a disturbing auguryseeks to appease my inasaltado bellybut vain combat which has already been hurt.And is an abyss the enjoyment, the desire madness,is your name invoked bitter exhaustionand your impending body rigorous measureMy hell.This insatiable desire they say that you have to save me.But the truth is that fevered I lookand that I can die before that touch me1988

LUISA ASTRO

“Poet and novelist Spanish born in Foz, Lugo, in 1966.” Luisa Castros’ career at the age of seventeen, when she published definitive Odessey. Castro holds a degree in “Hispanic Philology from the Universiddad Complutense de Madrid.” Prime Huperion award of poetry was one of the awards given to Luisa Castro in 1987.

LUISA CASTROInocencia

Se acabó la inocencia.Era una bebida empalagosa y breve,una comida exótica,ahora ya lo sé.

La probé.

De esas cosas que se toman un díay siempre las recuerdas,de esa gente que te encuentrasy no vuelves a ver.

Nunca sabrás lo que pasaríaen el banco de la inocencia.Con los pies colgandoallí sólo vive la gente que no recuerdas,lo que nunca ha pasado.

Te sentaste un momentoa escuchar desde lejos la orquesta.Era duro y solitarioel banco de la inocencia.Demasiada prisa en volvercomo para no olvidarte algo.

Ahora ya lo sabes,la inocencia es esa genteque se quedó tu chaqueta.

1997

LUISA CASTROInnocence

Ended the innocence.It was a cloying and brief, drinkan exotic food,now I know already.

I tried it.

Those things that take a dayand always remember them,of those people who you areand do not return to see.

You never know what would happenthe Bank of innocence.With his feet hangingThere people who you do not remember, only livethat has never happened.

You felt a momentto listen from a distance the Orchestra.It was hard and lonelythe Bank of innocence.Too much hurry to returnfor not forget something.

Now you know,innocence is that peoplethat was your jacket.

1997

LUISA CASTROSobre ti, sobre todo. Sobre lo que es locura,sobre todo en las mañanas necesarias del deseo,en los tilos de un amor que se recupera de la desmesuracon un desayuno tardíoy el final de una historia mal mecanografiada de niños de ayerque aún no se, no sabes, si se han muerte, si van acomprar la libertad de su poemao si tienen que vivirpara una madre enferma de naufragios;la historia siempre interrumpida por la inminenciadel dolor o del placer oscuro de los cuerpos,la historia siempre interrumpida,la historia siempre, siempre. Al finalsiempre aquella cosa del término y el cierre,la clausura,El final.

Sobre ti, sobre todo. Sobre lo que es locura

1984

LUISA CASTRO

About you, above all. What is madness,especially in necessary mornings of desire,in the Linden trees of a love that comes out of hubriswith a late breakfastand the end of a badly typed history of yesterday's childrenthat still does not, do not know, if it be death, if they are going tobuy the freedom of his poemor if they have to livea mother suffering from shipwrecks;history always interrupted by the imminencethe pain or the dark pleasure of bodies,history always interrupted,history always, always. At the endalways the thing of the term and the closure,the closure,The end.

About you, above all. What is madness.

1984

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