Selections from ‘Galápagos’
By Malva Flores
Translated from the Spanish by Jennifer Buentello
Capers
say goodbye to the Alexandria you are losing
Cavafy
Those were better times:
the sun like a fading sore
at noon
while I ate a bagel with salami for breakfast
(even though it had capers).
We were leaving Moheli café dragging a stroller.
The whole sun ours like before
at the same time, we shielded our eyes
from the glare
as we sat on the cement wall in front of the Central Library.
While I strolled among fake fortunetellers
Coyoacán expanded like a bubble.
I imagined how the remote islands must have been
Archipelago:
Colón:
Galápagos.
Gusts of wind blew stories into the market
that a man—tall and blonde—heralded,
calling the rats children.
“Stooories, chiiiildren, stooories”
yelled the giant and there we went
leaving the bronze coyotes to the breeze
the fountain water
the sun
the sore.
The gods fled the islands
You look for Rome in Rome, oh pilgrim!
and not even in Rome herself, do you find her
Quevedo
Some lived to party, to tango, the hustle and bustle of those long hours where parishioners rejoiced.
Others wanted to return to the blessed sun of a summer which no longer has a name, and we could only remember it as such: the magnificent summer of our plenty.
Everything is detained here in the cliffs, suspended in the time of medallions.
The gods fled the islands, and in their place—outsiders tell me—the censor has remained.
Selections from ‘Galápagos’
Malva Flores
Alcaparras
despide a Alejandría que así pierdes
Cavafis
Fue aquel tiempo mejor:
el sol como una llaga disolviéndose
a las doce del día
mientras desayunaba un bagel con salami
(aunque tenía alcaparras).
Salíamos del Moheli jalando una carriola.
Todo el sol era nuestro como antes
cuando a la vez cubríamos nuestros ojos
de aquella resolana
sentados en la barda frente a la Biblioteca Central.
Mientras paseaba entre falsas adivinas
Coyoacán se expandía como burbuja.
Imaginaba entonces cómo serían las islas del remoto
Archipiélago:
Colón:
Galápagos.
En la plaza soplaba el viento de los cuentos
que un hombre alto y rubio anunciaba
llamando a los ratones niños.
“Los cuentooos, niñoooos, los cuentooos”
gritaba aquel enorme y allá íbamos
dejando a la brisa los coyotes de bronce
el agua de la fuente
el sol
la llaga.
Los dioses se fugaron de las islas
Buscas en Roma a Roma ¡oh peregrino!
y en Roma misma a Roma no la hallas
Quevedo
Unos querían vivir el rumba rumba, el tango, el ajetreo de aquellas largas horas donde los parroquianos se regocijaban.
Otros querían volver al bendecido sol de algún verano que ya no tiene nombre y sólo podemos recordarlo como aquel: el verano magnífico de nuestra plenitud.
Todo está detenido acá en los riscos, suspendido en el tiempo de las medallas:
Los dioses se fugaron de las islas y en su sitio—me dicen los fuereños—ha quedado el censor.
Translator
Jennifer Buentello is a writer and Ph.D. student of English and Creative Writing at Texas Tech University where she currently serves as an Associate Editor for Iron Horse Literary Review. Her stories, essays, and translations have appeared in the Los Angeles Review, New Orleans Review, The Texas Review, and elsewhere.
Author
Malva Flores is author, among others, of the following books: “Galápagos” (Era, 2016); “La culpa es por cantar. Apuntes sobre poesía y poetas de hoy” (Literal Publishing/Conaculta, 2014); “Aparece un instante, Nevermore” (Bonobos/UNAM, 2012), “Viaje de Vuelta. Estampas de una revista” (FCE, 2011), and others. In 2006, Flores won the José Revueltas National Essay Prize with her book “El ocaso de los poetas intelectuales” (UV, 2010). In 1999, she received the Aguascalientes National Poetry Prize, and in 1991, she also received the Elías Nandino National Young Poetry Prize. Her poetry has been translated into English, Portuguese, Japanese, German, and Dutch.