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TODO TITULO SUBRAYADO ES
VÍNCULO A LA PÁGINA CORRESPONDIENTE
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DIALOGO PARA SEGUIR PENSANDO/DIALOGUE TO CONTINUE THINKING
Dear Eric I am so glad to publish your page the way I
did , with the dialogue , and the translations, so far , the most siginficatives a... , you are a great poet , down
to earth, writing the truth about he human condition " I Try & try to figure out what to say, that will have good
consequences, &, hopefully, great ones -- then I try & try to reach those who will receive it gladly, & modify
their beliefs & subsequent activity, to their & everyone's benefit -- but it's so frustrating, I have to be braver
than I'm brave, most of the time. " PERIOD . THIS IS YOU, AND I ADMIRE YOU , HAPPY HOLIDAYS b
Querido Eric: Estoy muy contento de publicar u página de la forma que lo hago, con el diálogo y los poemas traducidos , hasta ahora, los más significativos ; eres un gran poeta Eric, con los pies en la tierra, escribiendo la verdad. de la condición humana "Trato & y trato de decir lo que traiga á buenas consecuencias y, con suerte, Grandes; luego intento llegar con fe y gusto a los que las reciben y ver de entender sus creencias y actividades para su beneficio y el de todos, pero es muy frustrante, la mayor parte del tiempo tengo que ser más valiente que valiente ". Eric . PERIODO. ESTE ES USTED, Y LE ADMIRO, FELICES FIESTAS
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SOLIDARITY & BEYOND I'm the son of parents who never found their feet of migrants from where they'd never completely arrived to another place they never completely arrived & also the son of their neighbors from everywhere likewise groping & flailing among some who would take advantage of them more solidly established or imagining they were so--- but mainly among those too busy trying to avoid joining them to lend a hand or meal or hygienic quarters--- so that fighting versus gravity, winter, & pathogens was what they specialized in making
a career of exerting themselves without sufficient
understanding, resources, or rest til they died
of the constant effort. I, too, witness the migrants who never arrive groping & flailing among
some who would take advantage of them while I'm
so busy mainly trying to avoid joining them or
merely living & dying, specializing in the effort of
fighting versus gravity, winter, & pathogens--- &
trying to figure out how profitably to insert myself among
others likewise trying profitably to insert themselves in
the midst of those so desperate for immunity from
the mere struggle versus gravity, winter, & pathogens that
they don't believe they can afford the time to
become & be righteous, wise, & kind. I'm an old man, yet such a son, still & while I live, I hope to become more effective in service to those whose need is even greater than mine--- my hope is to become more & more effective so--- I have little time left, but more understanding tho understanding is never complete, always evolving--- habits of ineffectiveness & effectiveness, likewise--- not merely to express my solidarity with those suffering nor merely to be esteemed by others expressing solidarity with those who are suffering--- &, without losing hope, not merely to hope, either I don't mean to insult those expressing such solidarity--- I'm expressing such solidarity, too!---it's a start--- nothing good begins without a good intention--- but words aren't enough, tho they're part of what's needed--- first, ideas formed, correctly, within oneself then words for the ideas---no easy matter while you're a specialist in groping & flailing--- then the words launched somehow into the world where others can consider them, if they will--- & compelling enough, somehow that some, eager to speak, not listen will
actually listen, & consider them &
modify their behavior accordingly if you've managed
to make advantageous suggestions regarding more
effective behavior--- however much they're groping
& flailing. beyond words, beyond expressing solidarity--- eventually---may you & I while we live reach the point--- we could discuss how actually to transform the situation--- it's happened again & again, enough already, no?--- transform it temporarily here & there, first also making an impression, more than words that no one & nothing can annihilate--- & eventually, eventually---actually---forever, everywhere. If it's not possible, why are we talking? Are we just trying to impress one another that our sentiments are correct & that we're clever with language? If it is possible let's get beyond suffering in solidarity &
transform the situation more & more effectively--- always
with mercy even for ourselves--- not just exerting
ourselves to exhaustion & dying of futile
efforts, as so often happens--- but not contenting
ourselves, either that we've finally managed to
put into words our anguish, indignation, solidarity.
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SOLIDARIDAD Y MÁS
ALLÁ Soy
hijo de padres que nunca encontraron su rumbo de migrantes que nunca llegaron por completo a donde llegaron antes o ningun lugar llegaron completamente--- y tambien soy el hijo de sus vecinos de todas partes igualmente tanteando y agitando entre los que se aprovechaban de ellos mejor establecidos o creyendo que lo estaban-- principalmente entre aquellos demasiado ocupados tratando de evitar unirse a ellos darles una mano o comida o una vivienda higiénica --- así su desafío para sobrevivir, el invierno y los microbios ¿lucha poderosa ,enorme esfuerzo, sin comprender nada sin recursos y así hasta morir. Yo también soy testigo de los migrantes que nunca llegan, a tientas y agitándoseentre algunos que se aprovecharían de ellos mientras estoy tan ocupado principalmente tratando de evitar unirme a ellos o simplemente vivir y morir, especializándome en el esfuerzo de luchar contra la gravedad, el invierno y los patógenos --- y tratando de descubrir cómo insertarme rentablemente entre otros, tratando de insertarse igualmente en medio de aquellos tan desesperados por la inmunidad de la mera lucha contra la gravedad, el invierno y los patógenos que no creen que puedan permitirse el tiempo llegar a ser y ser justos, sabios y amables.
Soy un hombre viejo, pero sigo siemdo hijo y
mientras vivo tengo la esperanza de ser más efectivo al
servicio a aquellos cuyas necesidade son incluso mayores que ls mías --- mi esperanza es ser más y más eficaz, así que --- Me queda poco tiempo, pero más comprensión no solo para expresar mi solidaridad con los que sufren sino paea la comprensión que nunca es completa, siempre evoluciona
--- hábitos de ineficacia y efectividad,
igualmente --- expresando solidaridad con los
que sufren --- no simplemente para ser estimado
sino para tampoco perder la esperanza. No pretendo insultar a quienes
son tan solidarios--- ¡También
lo hago! --- es un comienzo --- nada bueno comienza
sin no hay buena intención --- pero las
palabras no son suficientes, aunque son parte
de lo que se necesita --- primero, ideas formadas,
correctamente, dentro de uno mismo luego palabras
para las ideas --- no es fácil mientras
eres un especialista en andar a tientas --- entonces
las palabras se lanzan de alguna manera al mundo donde
otros pueden considerarlas, si lo desean --- yson
lo suficientemente convincentes. de alguna
manera algunos, ansiosos por hablar, no escuchan. Si realmente escucharan considerian modificar su comportamiento, - por
mucho que estén a tientas y agitándose. Más
allá de tocar a tientas y agitarse más allá de las palabras, más allá de expresar solidaridad ---eventualmente --- tú y yo mientras vivimos y lleguemos al punto --- podríamos discutir cómo transformar realmente la situación
--- ha sucedido una y otra vez, ya suficiente,
¿o no? --- Transformarlo todo temporalmente
aquí y allá, causando impresión,
más que palabras que nadie y nada pueden aniquilar --- y
eventualmente, eventualmente --- en realidad --- para
siempre, en todas partes. Si no es posible, ¿Por qué estamos hablando? ¿Estamos tratando de impresionarnos unos a otros? que nuestros sentimientos son correctos y que somos inteligentes con el lenguaje? Si es posible vamos más
allá del sufrimiento en solidaridad a transformar
la situación más y más efectivamente --- siempre
con misericordia incluso para con nosotros mismos --- no
solo esforzándonos hasta el agotamiento y
morir de esfuerzos inútiles, como suele suceder --- pero
tampoco contentarnos que finalmente logramos poner
en palabras nuestra angustia, indignación,
solidaridad.
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MEN by Eric
Chaet Tom's been on the job 3 months, still smiles, can't shut up about precision with which he runs
machines. Klem was born in Lithuania, Germans cut off his military schooling, & gave him choice to
work or fight for Germany, labored in Lithuania,
Brazil & Argentina, for railroad in Pennsylvania, speaks 6 languages, looks like T.S. Eliot with muscles, wife may be dying of swollen neck glands in hospital, where doctor don't
promise nothing, & they rob you in broad day. Israelis chased Abe the Arab from his home, he had 22 date trees 6 miles
west of Jerusalem, he crawls into machine whenever
it malfunctions & quickly fixes it, thinking about divorcing his pregnant wife who believes he is having an affair with her cousin, & shows me every consideration-he
says Shalom, I say Salaam-when I make boxes
for him, demonstrating with hands each shorn a finger to second digit. Harris speaks only
to black men, only snaps at me when has to, gray specter tinctured dark brown. Sam thinks being Polish is a joke on him, smiles in round layers of fat, reaching across circle to grab hot plastic with cotton gloves, setting up huge 18 below. Groundhog
Benson banged his head & opened pouring hole, blinked twice, & said 2 shots would fill it, followed
by 2 beers. Ken eats candy bars & swells noiselessly over rebelling nerves. James Lee
Johnson's a giant black youth once walked from Wisconsin 31 cents in pocket, to find he'd lost a job, too tired this last month to lift weights at home. Woody says
he has 3 years of law school & is worth $165,000, housepainter 37 years, retired & took this job to not relax, can't keep hands off me trying to demonstrate quick cuts of razor thru thick film among jerking oily rotations. Pete's wife of 19 years left him to run away with motorcycle gang, now brags of his lover met in tavern & callousness to wife, broke-hearted, fading white smoke, foreman, disappearing
before my eyes. we
drink some beers 63rd & Cicero, mornings, driving home. #1484, shift 3-D, midnight till morning, polyethylene
division, Chicago plant, earning
some money, I quit.
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THE NEXT MOMENT I live right in the middle of everything: between Venus & Mars, the arctic & Amazon. I have more money & freedom than some, less than others, more skills
& understanding than some, less than others. I live between birth & death, history & the future. On the one hand: elementary
natural forces- on the other: the market, political
machinations, traditions, & widely-held beliefs. People don't call me much, but
I have a phone. Some people have heard of me,
but not many. Some pay attention to what I say,
but not many, & not often, or for long. I'm not without power- but people with far more power than I trigger events that sweep me along like tsunamis. I live in the era of capitalist revolutionaries: they innovate & organize, squeeze all possible profit out of the labor & materials they synchronize- these are no shrinking violets!- then use the profits to innovate again- leaving
all they previously created obsolete, & any
who can't keep up, stranded by the side of the
road with a lot of fancy, odd-shaped appliances that have little application to their current needs or hopes- like children's toys, five minutes
after they tire of them. I live among capitalists, the stranded, & children. People don't notice me-I'm one of them- right
in the middle of everything. After the time of hunting & gathering, &
improvising a language, while the tribe moves
on; & after the time when the peasants- with their tools, land, & animals, & confessors, plagues, & lords- were sure where they belonged; &
after the cities, factories, nations, & wars- I
continue into whatever the future is going to be. I'm for liberty, but justice, too. I'm for justice, but liberty, too. Yes!
I say. No! I also say. I'm not altogether confident,
or without hope, either. The next moment is a
mystery to me. I not only don't know what I'm
going to do: it's not even clear to me what I hope to accomplish.
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A Man Swerves His Car
A man swerves his car as tho to hit me where I stand on road shoulder torn between thumbing a ride east from Kansas City & watching a crew lay bricks on a newly-erected wood frame. At the last moment, he turns aside. He wants me more aware of death & of himself & myself if I'm going to stand in midst of world that's driving him back & forth along highways. EMPATHY I dreamed of neighbors only slightly known secretly suffering their hopes thwarted- that I could do nothing for them & couldn't even prevent myself from being one of them. GREAT BATTLES The so-called successes of my celebrated contemporaries are so puny, I'd laugh if I weren't afraid that the congregations of the taverns, churches, courts, & arenas would beat me til I'd feign respectfulness. How I wish I'd hear from those, like me engaged in great, unnoticed battles! |
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STATE STREET, CHICAGO
Beneath law, lie ocean, ape, & dream- branches & leaves wrestle & dance with wind roots reach elsewhere. Broke-nose Chicago ascends the lumbering bus jamming in aggravated swarms aboard or slowly thoughtful in worn clothes- to feed the work addiction, morning & streetlamp night. My grandmother on my father's side rode by horse-back from Pharaoh & Babylon the Persian & Seleucid empires English, French, Spanish, German expulsions- nationalism & bigotry breaking the feudal shell the dismantling of Poland-Lithuania & arrested development in the Pale of Settlement- access to nutrients deliberately withheld- then incited rioters, while police stood by burned the roofs under ecstatic, autistic fiddlers- time to move or die, however dire the options- thru mechanized, electrifying Germany by locomotive to the steamer ark- & emerged from the rocking, implacable sea at Baltimore-& caught another connection thru Cumberland Gap's doppler zones to this booming refrigerated railroad car city- as ravenous for cheap sewing machine operators as for cowed, driven, bellowing meat. Trailing Assyria, caesar, czar of all Odessa & Kiev, hasid, & kosher butcher. She met her man on day shift & lived behind store-front near penalized black Africans mafiosa & their wives & children Irish cops & bars & tenors & stench of pig & steer massacres. I am only trying for a straight account of how I come to be walking up State sucking Chicago's rusty teat dreaming & growing stronger. |
STATE STREET, CHICAGO
Beneath law, lie ocean, ape, & dream- branches & leaves wrestle & dance with wind roots reach elsewhere. Broke-nose Chicago ascends the lumbering bus jamming in aggravated swarms aboard or slowly thoughtful in worn clothes- to feed the work addiction, morning & streetlamp night. My grandmother on my father's side rode by horse-back from Pharaoh & Babylon the Persian & Seleucid empires English, French, Spanish, German expulsions- nationalism & bigotry breaking the feudal shell the dismantling of Poland-Lithuania & arrested development in the Pale of Settlement- access to nutrients deliberately withheld- then incited rioters, while police stood by burned the roofs under ecstatic, autistic fiddlers- time to move or die, however dire the options- thru mechanized, electrifying Germany by locomotive to the steamer ark- & emerged from the rocking, implacable sea at Baltimore-& caught another connection thru Cumberland Gap's doppler zones to this booming refrigerated railroad car city- as ravenous for cheap sewing machine operators as for cowed, driven, bellowing meat. Trailing Assyria, caesar, czar of all Odessa & Kiev, hasid, & kosher butcher. She met her man on day shift & lived behind store-front near penalized black Africans mafiosa & their wives & children Irish cops & bars & tenors & stench of pig & steer massacres. I am only trying for a straight account of how I come to be walking up State sucking Chicago's rusty teat dreaming & growing stronger. |
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PENNSYLVANIA WHISKERS & A RUSSIAN LADY On our way to march in Washington we filed in from the bus, shaking with cold breathing white vapor into the coal-grimey air & hunched over the all-night counter among bleary miners- strangers brought together on another mission unlikely to succeed for sanity & justice elbowing mugs of steam to nostrils. Drops of chocolate malt trembled at my new beard's tips: one blackened, wheat-bearded, piercing-eyed miner swiveled on his stool, & bellowed for my benefit: Let them whiskers grow, young fella! Let them whiskers grow! There was giggling about it, rolling thru Maryland: but I was thinking of the woman in the green dress alone-she'd seemed old to me-at the free concert- synchronized emanations from within the shell Lake Michigan slapping its concrete shore- one crew-cut summer evening in the Loop next to Mom- who was carried as an infant from one empire to another before I had a clue how Grant Park or Chicago came to be or in which third doomed empire Beethoven harvested, then deployed the sounds- who, seeing my book, said, "Anna Karenina, ah!" &, when I nodded, rattled Russian off so hard & fast-I thought she'd cry when she finally noticed my uncomprehending eye. |
PENNSYLVANIA WHISKERS & A RUSSIAN LADY On our way to march in Washington we filed in from the bus, shaking with cold breathing white vapor into the coal-grimey air & hunched over the all-night counter among bleary miners- strangers brought together on another mission unlikely to succeed for sanity & justice elbowing mugs of steam to nostrils. Drops of chocolate malt trembled at my new beard's tips: one blackened, wheat-bearded, piercing-eyed miner swiveled on his stool, & bellowed for my benefit: Let them whiskers grow, young fella! Let them whiskers grow! There was giggling about it, rolling thru Maryland: but I was thinking of the woman in the green dress alone-she'd seemed old to me-at the free concert- synchronized emanations from within the shell Lake Michigan slapping its concrete shore- one crew-cut summer evening in the Loop next to Mom- who was carried as an infant from one empire to another before I had a clue how Grant Park or Chicago came to be or in which third doomed empire Beethoven harvested, then deployed the sounds- who, seeing my book, said, "Anna Karenina, ah!" &, when I nodded, rattled Russian off so hard & fast-I thought she'd cry when she finally noticed my uncomprehending eye. |
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A Man Swerves His Car
A man swerves his car as tho to hit me where I stand on road shoulder torn between thumbing a ride east from Kansas City & watching a crew lay bricks on a newly-erected wood frame. At the last moment, he turns aside. He wants me more aware of death & of himself & myself if I'm going to stand in midst of world that's driving him back & forth along highways. EMPATHY I dreamed of neighbors only slightly known secretly suffering their hopes thwarted- that I could do nothing for them & couldn't even prevent myself from being one of them. GREAT BATTLES The so-called successes of my celebrated contemporaries are so puny, I'd laugh if I weren't afraid that the congregations of the taverns, churches, courts, & arenas would beat me til I'd feign respectfulness. How I wish I'd hear from those, like me engaged in great, unnoticed battles! |
A Man Swerves His Car
A man swerves his car as tho to hit me where I stand on road shoulder torn between thumbing a ride east from Kansas City & watching a crew lay bricks on a newly-erected wood frame. At the last moment, he turns aside. He wants me more aware of death & of himself & myself if I'm going to stand in midst of world that's driving him back & forth along highways. EMPATHY I dreamed of neighbors only slightly known secretly suffering their hopes thwarted- that I could do nothing for them & couldn't even prevent myself from being one of them. GREAT BATTLES The so-called successes of my celebrated contemporaries are so puny, I'd laugh if I weren't afraid that the congregations of the taverns, churches, courts, & arenas would beat me til I'd feign respectfulness. How I wish I'd hear from those, like me engaged in great, unnoticed battles! |
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To say that the enterprise
that underlies the emails coming from Joseph Berolo is impressive, is an understatement. A lot of it passes me by, as translating from Spanish is difficult for me, & Google's translations
are far from elegant, let alone poetic.
As always, I find most poetry---English, Spanish, everywhere; ancient, modern, all times; all styles---not to my liking or advantage. Although the poetry I like & find advantageous, I love, & consult again & again.) I am most impressed with what Joseph has done, organizing, making himself capable, making so much happen. It's wonderful. I like to think that he haS done something equivalent, but few can see the results so far, & many of the results are yet to emerge, so can't be displayed. I appreciate his attention to the website of my 100 so-called poems, of 50+ years: ericchaet.wordpress.com. Toward the end of the menu, there is a page called The Turnaround Artist, on which I tell a very little about the results so far. Please, I can see that, if anyone is busy, it's you. I don't expect you to look at the site. I only offer it, in case you're interested. I believe it to be extraordinary, tho. Keep it up! |
Decir
que el proceso que subyace en las creaciónes provenientes de Joseph Berolo es impresionante, es un
eufemismo. Mucho de eso me pasa, ya que traducir
del español es difícil para mí, y las traducciones de Google están lejos de ser elegantes, y mucho
menos poéticas. Aunque encuentro
que la mayoría de la poesía: inglés, español, en todas partes; antiguo, moderno, todo el tiempo;
todos los estilos --- no es de mi agrado . Sim
embargo, la poesía me gusta y me encanta, y la trabajo de vez en cuando- Estoy muy impresionado con lo que Joseph ha hecho, organizarse, hacerse capaz, hacer que todo suceda. Es maravilloso. Me gusta pensar que ha hecho algo grandioso pero pocos ve los resultados
y muchos los aprecian, Agradezco su atención al sitio
web de mis 100 supuestos poemas, de más de 50 años: ericchaet.wordpress.com. Hacia el final del menú, hay una página llamada The Turnaround Artist, en la
que cuento algo de lo poco que he logrado Hasta ahora que Josepoh publica lgo de mi obra, Le agradezco mucho porque si alguien vive ocupado, es
él- . Creo que lo que hace es extraordinario, Eric
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