💬 Ayer participé
de una consigna hermosa que tiró Ezequiel Zaidenwerg para las stories de «Orden
de traslado» (si aún no lo hicieron, vayan a oír todos los episodios de este
genial podcast en Spotify)
💬 Abajo dejo el
poema completo de Marianne y el videíto breve de mi participación (que por
supuesto es una traducción de Ezequiel)
POETRY – by Marianne Moore (1887 – 1972)
I, too,
dislike it: there are things that are important
beyond all
this fiddle.
Reading it,
however, with a perfect contempt for it,
one discovers
that there is in
it after all,
a place for the genuine.
Hands that can
grasp, eyes
that can
dilate, hair that can rise
if it must,
these things are important not be –
cause a
high sounding
interpretation can be put upon them
but because
they are
useful; when
they become so derivate as to
become
unintelligible, the
same thing may
be said for all us – the we
do not admire
what
we cannot
understand. That bat,
holding on
upside down or in quest of some –
thing to
eat, elephants
pushing, a wild horse taking a roll,
a tireless
wolf under
a tree, the
immovable critic twinkling his skin like a
horse that
feels a flea, the base –
ball fan, the
statistician – case after case
could be cited
did
one wish it;
nor is it valid
to
discriminate against «business documents
and
school-books»;
all these phenomena are important.
One must make
a distinction
however: when
dragged into prominence by half
poets,
the result is
not poetry,
nor till the
autocrats among us can be
«literalists
of
the
imagination» – above
insolence and
triviality and can present
for
inspection, imaginary gardens with real toads
in them, shall
we have
it. In the
meantime, if you demand on one hand,
in defiance of
their opinion –
the raw
material of poetry in
all its
rawness, and
that which is
on the other hand,
genuine, then
you are interested in poetry.