Jo Carrillo. Poesía Chicana (4)

AND WHEN YOU LEAVE, TAKE YOUR PICTURES WITH YOU

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
sitting at a factory machine
wielding a machete
in our bright bandanas
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
holding machine guns bayonets bombs knives
Our white sisters
radical friends
should think
again.

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
walking to the fields in the hot sun
with straw hat on head if brown
bandana if black
in bright embroidered shirts
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
smiling.
Our white sisters

should think again.

No one smiles
at the beginning of a day spent
digging for souvenir chunks of uranium
of cleaning up after
our white sisters
radical friends.

And when our white sisters

radical friends see us
in the flesh
not as a picture they own,
they are not quite sure
if
they like us as much.
We’re not as happy as we look
on
their
wall.

From And When You Leave, Take Your Pictures With You, published in This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, 2nd ed., 1983

Y CUANDO SE VAYAN, LLÉVENSE SUS RETRATOS

A nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales
les encanta tener retratos de nosotras
sentadas junto a la máquina de fábricas
manejando un machete
en pañuelos brillantes
cargando niños morenos amarillos negros rojos
leyendo libros de las
campañas contra el analfabetismo
cargando ametralladoras bayonetas bombas navajas
Nuestras hermanas blancas
amigas radicales
deben pensarlo
de nuevo.

A nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales
les encanta tener retratos de nosotras
andando por el sembrado en el sol ardiente
con sombrero de paja si somos morenas
pañuelo si somos negras
en faldas de tejido brillante
cargando niños morenos amarillos negros rojos
leyendo libros de las campañas contra el analfabetismo
sonriendo.
Nuestras hermanas gringas amigas radicales
deben pensarlo de nuevo.

Nadie se sonríe
al dar frente al día
excavando pedazos de uranio como recuerdos
o limpiando detrás de
nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales

Y cuando nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales nos ven
en carne viva
no como su propio retrato,
no están muy seguras
si
les encantamos tanto.
No somos tan felices como nos vemos
en
su
pared.


En Esta puente, mi espalda, Voces de mujeres tercermundistas en los Estados Unidos, editado por Cherríe Moraga y Ana Castillo y traducido por Ana Castillo y Norma Alarcón, Ism Press, San Francisco: 1988

Jo Carrillo (USA, 1959) is a Professor of Law at Hastings College of Law, where she joined the faculty in 1991. She received her B.A. degree from Stanford University (1981), her J.D. from the University of New Mexico (1986), and returned to Stanford University where for her J.S.D. degree (1996). Professor Carillo teaches American Indian Law, Critical Race Theory, Property, Wills and Trusts. Her poetry appears in This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color and has been published in German and Spanish.

From here.

Gloria Anzaldúa. Poesía chicana (3)

TO LIVE IN THE BORDERLANDS

To live in the borderlands means you

      are neither hispana india negra espanola

      ni gabacha, eres mestiza, mulata, half-breed

      caught in the crossfire between camps 

      while carrying all five races on your back

      not knowing which side to turn to, run from;

To live in the Borderlands means knowing

      that the india in you, betrayed for 500 years,

      is no longer speaking to you,

      the mexicanas call you rajetas, that denying the Anglo inside you

      is as bad as having denied the Indian or Black;

Cuando vives en la frontera

      people walk through you, the wind steals your voice,

      you’re a burra, buey, scapegoat,

      forerunner of a new race,

      half and half-both woman and man, neither-a new gender;

To live in the Borderlands means to

      put chile in the borscht,

      eat whole wheat tortillas,

      speak Tex-Mex with a Brooklyn accent;

      be stopped by la migra at the border checkpoints;

Living in the Borderlands means you fight hard to

      resist the gold elixir beckoning from the bottle,

      the pull of the gun barrel,

      the rope crushing the hollow of your throat;

In the Borderlands

      you are the battleground

      where enemies are kin to each other;

      you are at home, a stranger,

      the border disputes have been settled

      the volley of shots have scattered the truce

      you are wounded, lost in action

      dead, fighting back;

To live in the Borderlands means

      the mill with the razor white teeth wants to shred off

      your olive-red skin, crush out the kernel, your heart

      pound you pinch you roll you out

      smelling like white bread but dead;

To survive the Borderlands

      you must live sin fronteras

      be a crossroads.

Found here. 

VIVIR EN LA FRONTERA

Vivir en la Frontera significa que tú

      no eres ni hispana india negra española

      ni gabacha, eres mestiza, mulata, híbrida

      atrapada en el fuego cruzado entre los bandos

      mientras llevas las cinco razas sobre tu espalda

      sin saber para qué lado volverte, de cuál correr;

Vivir en la Frontera significa saber

      que la india en ti, traicionada por 500 años,

      ya no te está hablando,

      que las mexicanas te llaman rajetas,

      que negar a la Anglo dentro tuyo

      es tan malo como haber negado a la India o a la Negra;

Cuando vives en la frontera

      la gente camina a través tuyo, el viento roba tu voz,

      eres una burra, buey, un chivo expiatorio,

      anunciadora de una nueva raza,

      mitad y mitad –tanto mujer como hombre, ninguno–

      un nuevo género;

Vivir en la Frontera significa

      poner chile en el borscht,

      comer tortillas de maíz integral,

      hablar Tex-Mex con acento de Brooklyn ;

      ser detenida por la migra en los puntos de control fronterizos;

Vivir en la Frontera significa que luchas duramente para

      resistir el elixir de oro que te llama desde la botella,

      el tirón del cañón de la pistola,

      la soga aplastando el hueco de tu garganta;

En la Frontera

      tú eres el campo de batalla

      donde los enemigos están emparentados entre sí;

      tú estás en casa, una extraña,

      las disputas de límites han sido dirimidas

      el estampido de los disparos ha hecho trizas la tregua

      estás herida, perdida en acción

      muerta, resistiendo;

Vivir en la Frontera significa

      el molino con los blancos dientes de navaja quiere arrancar en tiras

      tu piel rojo-oliva, exprimir la pulpa, tu corazón

      pulverizarte apretarte alisarte

      oliendo como pan blanco pero muerta;

Para sobrevivir en la Frontera

      debes vivir sin fronteras

      ser un cruce de caminos.

Traducción: María Luisa Peralta

Encontrado aquí.

Gloria Anzaldúa (Valle del Río Grande, Texas; 1942 - Santa Cruz, California; 2004). She was a scholar of Chicana cultural theory, feminist theory, and queer theory, writer, poet and activist. Her work is fundamentally concerned with articulating what she calls a "new mestiza consciousness," an identity characterized by hybridity, flexibility, and plurality and focused on the experiences of Chicanas (Mexican American women) and particularly mestizas. Writing fiction, poetry, memoirs, and literary and cultural criticism (sometimes all within the same text), Anzaldúa has helped define and lend authority to women of color as well as gays and lesbians, whom she identifies as empowered by the inclusiveness and expansiveness of mestizaidentity.

Anzaldúa was born on a ranch in south Texas, near the border of Mexico. In her youth, she and her family labored as migrant agricultural workers. Although she felt stifled by the confines of a traditional Chicano home life in which gender roles tended to be rigid and rather limiting, Anzaldúa early found what she calls "an entry into a different way of being" through reading. Defying everyone's expectations, she went to college and earned a B.A. from Pan American University, an M.A. from the University of Texas at Austin, and did graduate work at the University of California at Santa Cruz. She has taught high-school English, been involved in education programs for the children of migrant workers, and taught creative writing and literature at a number of universities. A prolific writer, Anzaldúa has published stories, poems, critical theory, children's books, and a novel (La Prieta). Her work appears in both mainstream publications and alternative presses and journals. Anzaldúa's complex identity as a woman, a Chicana, a mestiza, and a lesbian is reflected in her pioneering contributions to gender studies, Chicano studies, queer theory, and creative writing. Her 1987 book, Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza, stands as a manifesto of her ideas about culture and identity construction.

From here

Alejandro Murguía. Poesía chicana (2)

O CALIFORNIA

se fueron

por el camino real

ese largo y triste camino de eucaliptos

en carretas con burros

un montón de frijol y maíz

y llegaron en lowered down chewys

with gafas fileros

speaking about the low life

tomando botellas de tequila

que decían Made in Mexico

hablando tres palabras en inglés

apple pie y coffee

cantando

Vámonos a California

Vámonos a California

se iban

por el alambre

indios de calzón blanco y huarache

y aterrizaban

pochos pachucos perdidos

vatos locos con tatuajes mágicos

de vida y muerte

esperando en las esquinas el big hit

the 5 & 10 of caliente race track

that never came

cantando calladitos por las calles iban

Vámonos a California

Vámonos a California

they came

from New York

New York the big apple

to the big orange

Yorubas Jíbaros Borinquens

regando las calles de bacardí

piel color café oscuro

ojos de verde cocodrilo

y un tun-tun de tambores

de viejas selvas ancestrales

que alguna vez fueron

pero ahora con mil memorias

de viajes mal pagados

Vámonos a California

Vámonos a California

Vámonos a California

O CALIFORNIA

they went

along the Camino Real

that long and sad road of eucalyptus

in carts with donkeys

an enormous heap of beans and corn

and arrived in lowered down chevys

with sunglasses switchblades

speaking about the low life

drinking bottles of tequila

that said Made in Mexico

speaking three words of English

apple pie and coffee

singing

Let's go to California

Let's go to California

they went

through the barbed wire

Indians in white trousers and sandals

and landed

pochos pachucos lost

crazy guys with magical tattoos

of life and death

waiting on corners for the big hit

the 5 & 10 of Caliente Race Track

that never came

singing quietly they went along the streets

Let's go to California

Let's go to California

they came

from New York

New York the big apple

to the big orange

Yorubas Jíbaros Borinquens

watering the streets with Bacardi

skin the color of dark coffee

eyes of crocodile green

and a tun-tun of drums

of old ancestral jungles

that existed at one time

but now with a thousand memories

of voyages badly paid

Let's go to California

Let's go to California

Let's go to California

pochos: Mexican-Americans (derogatory)

pachucos: young Chicanos of the early and middle 1940s; “hoods”

Yorubas: native Indians of Puerto Rico

Jíbaros: Puerto Rican peasant farmers

Borinquens: synonym for Puerto Ricans

From Fiesta en Aztlán. Ed. Toni Empringham. Capra Press, 1982.

Alejandro Murguía (1949) was born in California, but raised in Mexico City. Alejandro Murguía is the author of Southern Front and This War Called Love (both winners of the American Book Award). His non-fiction bookThe Medicine of Memory highlights the Mission District in the 1970s during the Nicaraguan Solidarity movement. He is a founding member and the first director of The Mission Cultural Center. He was a founder of The Roque Dalton Cultural Brigade, and co-editor of Volcán: Poetry From Central America. Currently he is a professor in Latina Latino Studies at San Francisco State University. He is the author of the short story “The Other Barrio” which first appeared in the anthology San Francisco Noir and recently filmed in the street of the Mission District. In poetry he has published Spare Poems, Native Tongue and Stray Poems. He is the Sixth San Francisco Poet Laureate and the first Latino poet to hold the position.

From http://alejandromurguia.org

Alejandro Murguia recites a poem with musician and professor Dr. Jose Cuellar (Dr.Loco)

from minute 2:00. 

Tomás Rivera. Poesía chicana.

M'IJO NO MIRA NADA

– Mira, m'ijo, qué rascacielo.

   “Does it reach the sky and heaven?”

– Mira, m'ijo, qué carrazo.

   “Can it get to the end of the world?”

– Mira, m'ijo, ese soldado.

   “¿Por qué pelea?”

– Mira, m'ijo, qué bonita fuente.

   “Yes, but I want to go to the restroom.”

– Mira, m'ijo, qué tiendota de J.C. Penney,

   allí trabajarás un día.

   “Do you know the people there, daddy?”

– No

   vámonos a casa,

   tú no miras nada.

MY SON DOESN'T SEE A THING

– Look, son, what a skycraper.

   “Does it reach the sky and heaven?”

– Look, son, what a fine car.

   “Can it get to the end of the world?”

– Look, son, see that soldier.

   “Why does he fight?”

– Look, son, what a beautiful fountain.

   “Yes, but I want to go to the restroom.”

– Look, son, what an enormous J.C. Penney store,

   there is where you will work one day. 

   “Do you know the people there, daddy?”

– No

   let's go home,

   you can't see a thing.

From: Fiesta en Aztlán. Ed. Toni Empringham. Capra Press, 1982. 

Tomás Rivera (Crystal City, Texas, 1935- Fontana, California, 1984) was a Chicano author, poet, and educator. He was born in Texas to migrant farm workers, and worked in the fields as a young boy. However, he achieved social mobility through education—earning a degree at Southwest Texas State University (now known as Texas State University), and later a Doctor of Philosophy degree (PhD) at the University of Oklahoma.

His publications include Y no se lo tragó la tierra / The Earth Did Not Part, Always and Other Poems, and numerous articles, monographs, and reports. 

Margaret Atwood

SIREN SONG

This is the one song everyone

would like to learn: the song

that is irresistible:

the song that forces men

to leap overboard in squadrons

even though they see the beached skulls

the song nobody knows

because anyone who has heard it

is dead, and the others can't remember.

Shall I tell you the secret

and if I do, will you get me

out of this bird suit?

I don't enjoy it here

squatting on this island

looking picturesque and mythical

with these two feathery maniacs,

I don't enjoy singing

this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell the secret to you,

to you, only to you.

Come closer. This song

is a cry for help: Help me!

Only you, only you can,

you are unique

at last. Alas

it is a boring song

but it works every time.

From Selected Poems 1965-1975. Copyright © 1974, 1976 by Margaret Atwood. Reprinted with the permission of the author and Houghton Mifflin Company.

EL CANTO DE LA SIRENA

Esta es la única canción que todos
querrían aprender: la canción
irresistible:

la canción que obliga a los hombres
a saltar por la borda en escuadrones
incluso viendo los cráneos en la arena

la canción que nadie conoce
porque cualquiera que la ha oído
está muerto, y los otros no pueden recordarla.

¿Debería contarte el secreto
y si lo hago, me ayudarás
a quitarme este disfraz de pájaro?

No disfruto nada aquí
acuclillada en esta isla
luciendo muy mítica y pintoresca

con estas dos locas emplumadas,
no disfruto cantando
este terceto, funesto y valiosísimo.

Voy a contarte el secreto a ti,
a ti, solamente a ti.
Acércate. Esta canción

es una llamada de auxilio: ¡Ayúdame!
Solo tú, solamente tú serás capaz,
eres único

por fin. Desgraciadamente
es una canción muy aburrida
pero siempre funciona.

Traducción de Andrés Catalán y encontrado en su blog Le Monocle de mon oncle.

Margaret Atwood, (Canada, 1939) is a poet, novelist, literary critic, essayist, environmental activist and feminist. She is a winner of the Arthur C. Clarke Award and Prince of Asturias Award for Literature, has been shortlisted for the Booker Prize five times, winning once, and has been a finalist for the Governor General's Award several times, winning twice. She is also a co-founder of the Writers' Trust of Canada, a non-profit literary organization that seeks to encourage Canada's writing community.

While she is best known for her work as a novelist, she has also published fifteen books of poetry. Many of her poems have been inspired by myths and fairy tales, which have been interests of hers from an early age. Atwood has published short stories in Tamarack Review, Alphabet, Harper's, CBC Anthology, Ms., Saturday Night, and many other magazines. She has also published four collections of stories and three collections of unclassifiable short prose works.

From here.

Roger McGough. Poemas en la nieve (7)

  

CARRERA EN DESCENSO

     Por

                   la

                              página

                                                blanca

                                        de

                          nieve

descendemos.

                               De

                                            lado

                                                          a

                                             lado

                                  nos

            deslizamos.

                                  Superamos

                                                        obstáculos

                                                                                con

                                                                                        facilidad.

                                                                   Palabras

                                                   sobre

                                    esquís.

                        Mira.

                                    Por

                                            ahí

                                                      viene

                                         un

                         poema

                                           con

                                                          prisa!

CUESTA ARRIBA

                                                                                         Yeeeiiih.

                                                                                    Tres

                                                                               Dos

                                                                           Uno

                                                                      vez.

                                                                  otra

                                                             lanzarnos

                                                         para

                                                     cima

                                                  la

                                              hacia

                                         vuelta

                                     de

                                camino

                            el

                        todo

                   ascender

                es

           aburrida

       parte

   única

La

Poems from the book All the best: The Selected poems of Roger McGough. Ilustrated by Lydia Monks. Puffin books. Penguin Group 2003.

Poems translated into Spanish by Beatriz Viol.

Roger McGough (Litherland, Lancashire, Inglaterra, 1937) es poeta, locutor, autor infantil y dramaturgo. Presenta el programa de BBC Radio 4 Poetry Please. Fue uno de los miembros de los poetas de Liverpool, un grupo de poetas jóvenes influenciados por la poesía Beat y la música y la cultura popular de los sesenta en Liverpool. Formó junto a Mike McCartney y John Gorman el grupo cómico The Scaffold, con el cual alcanzaron el Nº1 con Lily the Pink.

Roger McGough (Litherland, Lancashire, England, 1937) is an English poet, performance poet, broadcaster, children's author and playwright. He presents the BBC Radio 4 programme Poetry Please, as well as performing his own poetry. McGough was one of the leading members of the Liverpool poets, a group of young poets influenced by Beat poetry and the popular music and culture of 1960s Liverpool. McGough, alongside Mike McCartney and John Gorman, formed the comic group The Scaffold, which in 1968 reached No 1 with Lily the Pink. He is an honorary fellow of Liverpool John Moores University, fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and President of the Poetry Society.

Ver la serie completa: Poemas en la nieve.

Iryna Vikyrchak. Poemas en la nieve (6)

Resisto

como cualquier otro invierno
apretando por igual puños y dientes.
Dibujo panoramas en los pliegues
de palabras congeladas.
Luego,
cuando la nieve sepulta los caminos,
cuando la tierra medio-desnuda
se esconde bajo sus cobijas
Soy—y resisto.

Traducido por León Blanco.

Fuente: Revista Prometeo nº 88-89. Julio 2011.

Iryna Vikyrchak (Ucrania, 1988). Poeta, traductora, fotoartista y directora ejecutiva de Meridian Czernowitz, festival internacional de poesía que se lleva a cabo en la ciudad de Chernivtsi, en el oeste de Ucrania. Ha publicado la colección de poemas Talk to angel (2005) y es coautora del libro foto-poético TimeTrain: Chernowitz-Prag-Wien (2011).

Ver la serie completa: Poemas en la nieve