Books: South Africa

A gift from our neighbour:

An Abstracted Neruda

Here's a translation from Neruda with no knowledge of Spanish or attempt to obtain any in the process.

Me Gustas Cuando Callas

Me gustas cuando callas porque estas como ausente, 

y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.

emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mia.
Mariposa de sueno, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolia.
Y estas como quejandote, mariposa en arrullo.

Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
dejame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.
claro como una lampara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.

Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.

Como todas las cosas estan llenas de mi alma 

Me gustas cuando callas y estas como distante. 

Dejame que te hable tambien con tu silencio 

Me gustas cuando callas porque estas como ausente. 

Me gustas cuando callas

To me, this blustery ‘can do’ wind is a callas pig absenting itself from a trip to Lake Como.

How my eyes decide then leads my voice. There’ll be no tea today.

Perhaps all the lost yoyos have gone to see the hibernating volcano,

perhaps your best caress is in this box.

Today at Lake Como the eastern coast leans towards my mother,

she emerges as the coast and leans towards her mother

or someone posing as the pieces of her mother.

How the pieces pull together is a kind of melancholia.

To me this gusty wind is just as distant as Lake Como and as callas.

Yes, Lake Como, you marzipan jewel

my eyes decide to lead my voice to Alicante

or Dijon - they call to me like silent toys.

Dijon, as silent as an untouched tambourine,

clear in its lamplight, as simple as vanilla.

Tonight, Lake Como, you are a constellation of days,

you silence the beer, you lean against your silence.

To me, this blustery ‘can do’ wind is a callas pig absenting itself from a trip to Lake Como

as distant and slow witted as a hibernating turtle.

A friend's brasserie is sometimes a sunrise.

Do you know what allegro is? Do you know? Because the sea isn’t certain.   

Shakey Horton

Terry Riley

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Cut Up Poetry

Chopping up thriller novels found on holiday to create poetry:

"Who would you trust with your used thriller novel? Think again."

Inspiring Stuff: Imagist Poetry

Inspiring Stuff (Poetry): Tom Warner