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April 17, 2004
"Dregs," César Vallejo
by Ron HoganThis afternoon it rains, as never before; and I don't want to live, heart.
This afternoon's sweet. Why shouldn't it be?
Dressed in grace and grief; dressed like a woman.
This afternoon in Lima, it rains. And I remember
the cruel caverns of my ingratitude;
my block of ice upon her poppy
stronger than her "Don't be this way!"
My violent black flowers; and the barbaric,
atrocious stoning; and the glacial space.
And with scalding oils, the silence
of her dignity will make the final point.
So this afternoon, as never before, I go
with this owl, this heart.
And other women pass by; and seeing me so sad,
they take a little bit of you
from the steep furrow of my profound sorrow.
This afternoon it rains, it pours. And I don't
want to live, heart!
From The Black Heralds, translated by Rebecca Seiferle. In its original Spanish version, the poem has also been set to music by Susana Baca.
I like much of what I've seen in Seiferle's own poetry (see "The Music We Dance To" and "The Relic"), but I'm not sold on this translation. Compare it to Sandy McKinney's version of the same poem:
This afternoon it rains as never before; and I
don't feel like staying alive, heart.
This afternoon is sweet. Why shouldn't it be?
It's dressed in grace and sorrow, dressed like a woman.
This afternoon it's raining in Lima. And I remember
the cruel caverns of my ingratitude;
my chunk of ice on her poppy,
harsher than her 'Don't be like that.'
My violent black flowers; the savage
outrageous lashing out; and the glacial distance.
And the silence of her dignity will brand
the final period with blazing oil.
That's why this afternoon, as never before, I walk
owl-like, with such a heart.
And others go by, and seeing me so sad,
they sense a little of you
in the craggy furrows of my deep misery.
This afternoon it rains and rains. And I
don't feel like staying alive, heart.
I still feel some missed points, but this version is much closer on many lines, like "glacial distance" instead of "glacial space." The main problem seems to be that "heart;" it's a literal translation of "corazón," but it cries out to be read as "dear heart" or even "darling." Well, "darling" is maybe a bit too sappy, but you see where I'm going. Unless he's really talking to his heart, which is to say himself, perhaps after having drank a bottle of wine down to those eponymous dregs. (Keep in mind that my Spanish is virtually nonexistent, so I'm pretty much just shooting my mouth off here.) Anyway, McKinney has some thoughts on the art of translation well worth considering.
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