Selected Poems of Juan Gelman
translated by Hardie St. Martin

Reds

rain beats down on Río de la Plata and it’s going on
36 years since they killed Federico García Lorca but
what is the connection between the reality out there
and the reality in here? or
what is the connection between the unreality out there
and the reality in here?

I don’t know it the river’s gray line
is like the knife used to slash the sky
the knife used now to cut short children’s lives in Azul
they cut short children’s lives in Santa Fe and other parts of the republic
sometimes forever or always forever
it’s one of our country’s crosses

that’s a fact in the West
the sun doesn’t turn sunsets red here
the blood of children turns the republic’s sunsets red

children in Salta in Tucumán little angels
whose lost or spilled blood is swept away by sunsets
day after day after day

and what has it to do with Federico García Lorca’s death
with Federico García Lorca’s execution in Granada in 1936?
or do sunsets in the West of Spain
turn red not with the sun
but with Federico García Lorca the poet’s blood
day after day after day?

I don’t know I don’t know
“you’ll fall into the river, kid!”  Federico García Lorca said
“I understood when he disappeared into the water” Federico García Lorca said
“there’s another river in the rose” Federico García Lorca said
but why does his blood turn Granada red
day after day?

and why do children in Azul Santa Fe Tucumán Salta
turn red the republic’s sky
under which others forgot or pretend to forget them?
why did they fall into the river and disappear
into the water leaving squalid poverty
for the river of another rose?

what’s the connection between the reality
out there and this unreality in here? or
what’s the connection between the unreality out there
and this reality in here?
when did they kill Federico García Lorca in Tucumán?
when did they shoot him in Azul Santa Fe Salta?

Selected Poems of Juan Gelman
translated by Hardie St. Martin

XX:  Those who created God

those who created god with
one or two men or
converted man into god were
punished with eternity while
those who started off
by naming the fear of death accepting
the sudden or terrifying end
(not as fury oblivion or limit) and

regarded their neck as something relative
their shoulder something temporary their
ribcage something borrowed those were
dispersed through time and history

scattered on earth like seed planted
in the sun heavy with solitude
or indecision and buried in thought
before the graveyards of white birds

Selected Poems of Juan Gelman
translated by Hardie St. Martin

IV:  The sun on the day’s crest

the sun on the day’s crest gilds
points of land flags barrier reefs someone
sitting at the roadside inspects
his feet

tied down to the road he’s thinks
of kings swallowed up by time he sticks
a yellowed fingernail
into the sole of his right foot digs out

the tiny splinter
that made him bleed
and
feel the road under him he sniffs

at the hard sharp object still warm
his body would not accept it
dark covered with blood
and he’s silent out there in the sun

Selected Poems of Juan Gelman
translated by Hardie St. Martin

CIII:  I saw my country’s map in yellow one day

i saw my country’s map in yellow one day
it happened suddenly and i thought how strange
the word yellow it was
a perfect day in fall

full of lives and tremors i
saw
my country floating
on the Atlantic we

were drifting along with it i felt
something like terror
or love or grief
as i faced the yellow map i thought

about my country we were all drifting
to the south the interior the north and so
i dreamt about your love
my darkened one i mean peace

fall was just beginning my country
was drifting on the sea
the wide open ocean
strange words oh so strange