Inherence: Three Poems from Two Books
Translated from the Spanish by Anna Deeny Morales.
Inherencia
a mis hijos
No puedo ser la acacia, 
y debería. La realidad 
es siempre poca 
                              y no parece 
ser la última. Tampoco 
la primera, que develaría 
el hoy. 
          Hoy 
he mirado la acacia y la sucia 
combadura del pasto en la llovizna 
sin atreverme 
                              a comprenderlas. 
Pero sé que debo amar
lo incomprensible, con este amor 
improbable. 
                              Ser persona 
          es estar desesperada 
por los modos del amor y el nudo 
donde lo dicho enmudece: 
                                                            lo único 
posible de las cosas es nombrarlas
en un rodeo sin fin mientras se mueven 
de lugar. 
                    Nuestra propia quietud 
          aquí 
es delgada y grueso
el movimiento que alarga
la transición de ser a deshacer 
                                                            la realidad 
en imposibles: la idea de la rosa 
en su buen uso
hace a la rosa posible 
                                                  entre las horas 
que la gravedad del cuerpo arrasa 
en un girar de grupas vueltas
o volteadas. 
                              Más allá se empaña 
la reja de los años
del espejo donde antes 
yo era verde. 
                              Ahora 
soy de ese color que el verde 
toma con el tiempo y en el tiempo 
abusa el ojo 
                              del sujeto 
de la rosa, de la acacia que deshoja 
al azar el contratiempo
del género mujer- 
                                        hombre- 
y objeto que soy cuando me nombro 
así sujeta, que ni acorta,
ni descarta, ni parece 
                                        estar
pero presente.
(De Pasajes, 1984)
Inherence
for my children
I can’t be the acacia, 
and I should be. Reality 
is always scarce 
                                        and doesn’t seem 
to be the last. Or 
the first, to reveal 
today. 
          Today 
I looked at the acacia and the dirty 
bend of grass below the light rain 
without venturing 
                                        to comprehend them. 
But I know that I should love 
the incomprehensible, with this 
improbable love. 
                                        To be a person 
is to be desperate
for the ways of love and the knot 
where what’s said falls mute: 
                                                                      the only 
possible of things is to name them 
in an endless roundup as they shift 
place. 
                    Our own quietude 
          here 
is thin and thick
the movement that extends 
the transition of being to undo 
                                                                      reality 
in impossibles: the idea that the rose 
in its good use
makes the rose possible 
                                                            between hours 
that the body’s gravity levels
in a sharp hinge of hindquarters turned 
or bent. 
                    Over there 
the grid of years tarnishes 
of the mirror where once 
I was green. 
                              Now 
I am that color that green 
takes with time and in time 
abuses the eye 
                                        of the subject 
of the rose, of the acacia that unleafs 
randomly the setback
of that gender woman- 
                                                  man- 
and the object I am when I name myself 
as subject, that neither cuts short
nor discards, nor seems 
                                                  to be
but present.
(From Passages, 1984)
Mirta Rosenberg was born on October 7, 1951 in Rosario, Argentina, and passed away on June 28, 2019, in Buenos Aires. Her volumes of poetry include Pasajes (1984); Madam (1988); Teoría sentimental (1994); El arte de perder (1998); El árbol de palabras: obra reunida 1984–2006 (2006); El paisaje interior (2012); El arte de perder y otros poemas (2015); Cuaderno de oficio (2016); and Bichos, sonetos y comentarios, co-authored with Ezequiel Zaidenwerg (2017). Rosenberg has translated poetry and essays by Katherine Mansfield, William Blake, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Anne Sexton, Dereck Walcott, Marianne Moore, Hilda Doolittle, W.H. Auden, James Laughlin, Seamus Heaney, and Anne Talvaz. In collaboration with Daniel Samoilovich, she translated Henry IV by William Shakespeare. Her poetry has been widely anthologized as well as translated into the German, French, and English.
Anna Deeny Morales is a dramatist, translator of poetry, and literary critic. Original works for contemporary dance, theater, and opera include La straniera (1997); Tela di Ragno (1999–2002); Cecilia Valdés (2018); and La Paloma at the Wall (2019). Her one-act opera libretto, ¡ZAVALA-ZAVALA!: an opera in v cuts, recently commissioned by the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, and composer Brian Arreola, will debut in 2021. A 2018 National Endowment for the Arts recipient for the translation of Tala by Gabriela Mistral, Deeny Morales has translated works by Raúl Zurita, Mercedes Roffé, Alejandra Pizarnik, Nicanor Parra, Amanda Berenguer, Malú Urriola, and Marosa di Giorgio, among others. She received a PhD from the University of California, Berkeley, and has taught at Harvard University and Dartmouth College. She currently teaches at Georgetown University, and her book manuscript, Other Solitudes, considers transamerican dialogues on consciousness and poetry throughout the last century.
