LOS
REZOS SECRETOS
En mi familia
las oraciones se rezaban en secreto,
suavemente murmuradas bajo las mantas
y la congestión nasal,
un suspiro antes y un suspiro después
como finos apósitos esterilizados.
En el exterior de la casa
había una escalera de madera
apoyada todo el año contra la pared,
lista para reparar en agosto las tejas antes de las lluvias.
Nunca ningún ángel la subió
y ningún ángel la bajó,
sólo hombres que sufrían de ciática.
Se rezaba para tener un vislumbre de Ellos
en la esperanza de poder renegociar los contratos
o postergar los plazos.
"Señor, dame fuerzas", decían,
puesto que descendían de Esau
y tenían que contentarse con la bendición
concedida por Jacob,
la bendición de la espada.
En casa, rezar se consideraba una debilidad
lo mismo que hacer el amor.
Y al igual que hacer el amor
seguía después la larga
noche fría del cuerpo.
Traducido por Jesús Jiménez Domínguez en su blog.
THE
MISTERY OF PRAYERS
In my family
prayers were said secretly,
softly, murmured through sore noses
beneath blankets,
a sigh before and a sigh after
thin and sterile as a bandage.
Outside the house
there was only a ladder to climb
a wooden one, leaning against a wall all year long,
ready to use to repair the tiles in August before the rains.
No angels climbed up
and no angels climbed down –
only men suffering from sciatica.
They prayed to catch a glimpse of Him
hoping to renegotiate their contracts
or to postpone their deadlines.
‘Lord, give me strength,’ they said
for they were descendants of Esau
and had to make do with the only blessing
left over from Jacob,
the blessing of the sword.
In my house praying was considered a weakness
like making love.
And like making love
it was followed by the long
cold night of the body.
In my family
prayers were said secretly,
softly, murmured through sore noses
beneath blankets,
a sigh before and a sigh after
thin and sterile as a bandage.
Outside the house
there was only a ladder to climb
a wooden one, leaning against a wall all year long,
ready to use to repair the tiles in August before the rains.
No angels climbed up
and no angels climbed down –
only men suffering from sciatica.
They prayed to catch a glimpse of Him
hoping to renegotiate their contracts
or to postpone their deadlines.
‘Lord, give me strength,’ they said
for they were descendants of Esau
and had to make do with the only blessing
left over from Jacob,
the blessing of the sword.
In my house praying was considered a weakness
like making love.
And like making love
it was followed by the long
cold night of the body.
Translated
by Henry Israeli & Shpresa Qatipi
From
Haywire: New & Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2011)
Found at bloodaxe, where you can also watch a video of the poet reading some of her poems. She introduces and reads the poem The mistery of prayers after the minute 5.40.
Versión
original en albanés:
MISTERI
I LUTJEVE
Në familjen time
lutjet bëheshin fshehtas
me zë të ulët, me një hundë të skuqur nën jorgan,
gati mërmëritnin,
me një psherëtimë në fillim dhe fund
të hollë, e te paster si nje garze.
Përreth shtëpisë,
kishte vetëm një palë shkallë për t'u ngjitur
ato të drunjtat, të mbështetura gjithë vitin pas murit,
për riparimin e tjegullave në gusht para shirave.
Në vend të engjejve,
hipnin e zbritnin burra
shiatiku. që vuanin nga shiatiku.
Luteshin duke u shikuar sy më sy me Të,
në një marrëveshje kryezotësh
duke kërkuar nje shtyrje afati
„Zot, me jep forcë..!”, e asgjë më shumë,
se ishin pasardhësit e Esaut,
të bekuar, me të vetmen gjë që mbeti prej Jakobit,
-bekimin e shpatës
Në shtëpinë time
lutja ishte një dobësi,
që nuk përflitej kurrë,
si të bërit dashuri
dhe njësoj
si të bërit dashuri
pasohej nga nata e frikshme e trupit.
Në familjen time
lutjet bëheshin fshehtas
me zë të ulët, me një hundë të skuqur nën jorgan,
gati mërmëritnin,
me një psherëtimë në fillim dhe fund
të hollë, e te paster si nje garze.
Përreth shtëpisë,
kishte vetëm një palë shkallë për t'u ngjitur
ato të drunjtat, të mbështetura gjithë vitin pas murit,
për riparimin e tjegullave në gusht para shirave.
Në vend të engjejve,
hipnin e zbritnin burra
shiatiku. që vuanin nga shiatiku.
Luteshin duke u shikuar sy më sy me Të,
në një marrëveshje kryezotësh
duke kërkuar nje shtyrje afati
„Zot, me jep forcë..!”, e asgjë më shumë,
se ishin pasardhësit e Esaut,
të bekuar, me të vetmen gjë që mbeti prej Jakobit,
-bekimin e shpatës
Në shtëpinë time
lutja ishte një dobësi,
që nuk përflitej kurrë,
si të bërit dashuri
dhe njësoj
si të bërit dashuri
pasohej nga nata e frikshme e trupit.
Luljeta
Lleshanaku (1968, Albania). Es una poeta que en 2009 recibió el
Premio Vilenice Kristal (otorgado en ediciones anteriores a
escritores como Milan Kundera, Adam Zagajewski, Peter Handke y
Zbigniew Herbert). Estudió literatura en la Universidad de Tirana y
fue editora jefa de la revista semanal Zëri
i rinisë (La voz de los jóvenes).
Trabajó para el periódico literario Drita.
En 1996 recibió el premio al mejor libro del año por la editorial
Eurorilindja. En 1999 tomó parte del Programa de escritores
internacionales en la Universidad de Iowa. Es autora de cuatro
publicaciones de poesía, de las cuáles Fresco
ha sido traducido al inglés. El escritor, crítico y editor Peter
Constantine, en su introducción a Fresco, califica su estilo de esta
forma:
Luljeta
Lleshanaku es una pionera de la poesía albanesa. Con una voz
completamente original, su imaginario y lenguaje son siempre
inesperados e innovadores. Su poesía tiene poca conexión con otros
estilos poéticos del pasado o presente en América, Europa o el
resto del mundo, e incluso en Albania (...) Uno de los elementos que
distinguen su poesía es la ausencia de un comentario político o
social directo. Su remarcable variedad temática, la cual evita
reacciones simplísticas a un pasado terrible y a un presente y
futuro inestable, es quizás uno de los elementos que hace de sus
poemas clásicos contemporáneos de la literatura universal.
Luljeta
Lleshanaku (1968, Albania).
She is an Albanian poet who is the recipient of the 2009 Vilenice
Kristal prize for world poetry (past recipients have included Milan
Kundera, Adam Zagajewski, Peter Handke, and Zbigniew Herbert.) She
was educated in literature at the University of Tirana and was
editor-in-chief of the weekly magazine Zëri
i rinisë (The Voice of
Youth). She then worked for the literary newspaper Drita.
In 1996, she received the best book of the year award from the
Eurorilindja Publishing House. In 1999, she took part in the
International Writers Program at the University of Iowa. She is the
author of four poetry collections, one volume of which has been
translated into English: Fresco,
available from New Directions. The writer, critic and editor Peter
Constantine, in his introduction to Fresco, sums up her style in this
way:
Luljeta
Lleshanaku is a pioneer of Albanian poetry. She speaks with a
completely original voice, her imagery and language always unexpected
and innovative. Her poetry has little connection to poetic styles
past or present in America, Europe, or the rest of the world. And,
interestingly enough, it is not connected to anything in Albanian
poetry either (...) one of the elements that distinguishes Luljeta
Lleshanaku's poetry is the absence of direct social and political
commentary. Her poetry's remarkable variety of themes, which avoids
[sic] simplistic reactions to a terrible past and an unstable present
and future, is perhaps one of the elements that makes her poems
contemporary classics of world literature.
precioso!!!
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