A Fucked Up Life. A bilingual Poem & Translation from Spanish by Vera Moreno

A fucked up life

living in Zurich to work in a small town
working in a small town to live in Zurich

everything for
a small retirement benefit

everything for
tomorrow´s future



every single morning the alarm o´clock

                                 the train leaves at 6.09

                                 the train leaves at 6.09


teaching three modules when the rest of teachers

teach two

wishing to change that


                          and as the cuckoo, open your beak,
                          open your beak, but nothing changes

getting up again
taking the same seat at 6.05

sleeping on the same train seat
on the way to work
sleeping standing
on your way back 

                yawning at the wrong time
                yawning at the wrong time

getting to the small town exhausted
getting  back to Zurich      more  than exhausted

knowing that today is a piece of gold for 
the retirement benefit, the retirement benefit
the precious  golden retirement benefit
cooking not so much ´cos the lack of sleeping

 DON´T DREAM
                                                         DON´T DREAM much
                                                         DON´T DREAM
                                                         DON´T DREAM much




a fucked up life
a fucked up life

living in Zurich to work in a small town
working in a small town to live in Zurich

having a reduced future for
a little retirement benefit in Switzerland

                             having a reduced morning
                             to sleep or not to sleep
                             to sleep or not to sleep
                             never dreams, never dreams
                                             sleeping on a train, sleeping on a train 
                                                but never do it, but never do it       in class
                            
Can´t- get - out, can´t get out, can´t get out

                             from the clock, 		from the cow, 
                             from the knife,  		from the cheese
                             from the Swiss       	fucking snow,
                             				fucking snow, 
                             					           can´t get out
                             from fucking Switzerland
                             				
							from fucking Swiss 
							white clean tyranny.



Vera Moreno
from The broken bodies´ fitness center
César Simón Poetry Award 2019

 
 

 
Vera Moreno (Madrid, 1972). A multifaceted writer, teacher, rhapsodist, and cultural activist. She loves performance and videopoems.
 
She holds a Master Degree in Artistic, Literary and Cultural Studies from the Autonomous University of Madrid; and a Sociology and Political Sciences Degree from the Complutense University of Madrid. She also did Women´s studies at Utrecht University in NederLands.
 
In 2013 she was recognized as a New Voice by the feminist publishing House Torremozas (Madrid). Vera Moreno was published by Amargord publisher in a double poetry book called The whole orange (La naranja entera) in 2016. Three years later, she won the César Simón poetry reward at the University of Valencia with the poems book called The broken bodies´ fitness center (El gimnasio de los rotos). Next year a new book is coming.
 
Some of her texts and poems have been translated into Dutch, Esperanto and English.
 
As a cultural activist she created in 2001 a innovative cultural radio space of one minute lenght called Europe for Culture on Europe FM national radio station. In 2012 Vera Moreno designed and coordinated participative literary events called Literary Moondays (Lunes literarios) at the Rivas city hall – centro cultural del ayuntamiento de Rivas, and co-founder of the poetry channel on youtube Poesía a domicilio / Poetry delivery, with the great Dominican poet Rosa Silverio (2021).
 
 
 
 

Una vida jodida

vivir en Zurich para trabajar en un pequeño pueblo
trabajar para vivir en Zurich
tener una pequeña pensión, 
para el día de mañana

 cada mañana el despertador
			           el tren sale a las 6.09
                                
impartir tres módulos cuando el resto imparte dos
querer cambiar, 			     
                                   y como el cuco, abrir la boca

levantarse de nuevo
sentarse a las 6.05 en ese tren


dormir sentada
dormir de pie
dormir en el tren de ida  
dormir en el tren de vuelta

                                              bostezar a destiempo

llegar al pueblo exhausta
llegar a Zurich exhausta
sabiendo que el día cotiza en bolsa o en la pensión
cocinar poco por el sueño

NO 
                                                                          soñar

una vida jodida
vivir en Zurich para trabajar en un pequeño pueblo
trabajar para vivir en Zurich

tener un mañana reducido
una pensión pequeña en Suiza

					tener una mañana reducida
					               dormir o no dormir
						       dormir o no dormir
                                                en el tren sí, en clase no

no-poder-salir 
			   del reloj, la vaca, la navaja, el queso
                                                                          la nieve



Vera Moreno
Poema procedente de el gimnasio de los rotos
Premio de Poesía César Simón 2019

 
 
 
 
Vera Moreno (Madrid, 1972). Escritora polifacética, docente, rapsoda y activista cultural.
 
Licenciada en sociología (UCM) y máster en estudios artísticos, literarios y gestión de la cultura (UAM).
 
En 2013 fue incluida en el premio Voces Nuevas de Torremozas. Ha publicado el doble poemario La Naranja entera con Amargord (2016), y en 2019 ganó el premio Cesar Simón de poesía de la Universidad de Valencia con su poemario El gimnasio de los rotos. En 2022, llegará una nueva entrega.
 
Parte de su obra ha sido traducida y publicada en holandés, esperanto e inglés.
 
Creadora del espacio radiofónico Europa por la Cultura para la cadena Europa FM (2001); creadora de los encuentros participativos los Lunes Literarios en Rivas (2012), y co-fundadora del canal de poesía en Youtube Poesía a domicilio, junto con la poeta dominicana Rosa Silverio (2021).
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit
Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com
See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Five Poems in Italian & English Antichi suoni d’amore. Ancient Sounds of Love by Michela Zanarella translated by Leanne Hoppe

1.
 
Antichi suoni d’amore

 
L’istante di un sospiro
si aggrappa all’anima
allagando gli occhi
di segreti.
É il cuore
che salta in cielo
a pochi passi dall’eterno.
Percorre lunghi sentieri
di felicità
e si ferma a sciogliere
le pelli sotto gli echi
della sera.
Mentre il tramonto
resta una mano tremante
d’emozione,
le labbra danzano tra loro
e s’inebriano,
di vertebre tese
a trovare quel cielo lontano
che ha strappato i silenzi
per rievocare antichi suoni d’amore.
E continuano a correre
le voci
risorgendo sole al mattino.
 
1.
 
Ancient Sounds of Love
 
The instant of a sigh
grasps onto the soul
flooding the eyes
with secrets.
It is the heart
which jumps in the sky
to a few steps from eternity.
It travels long paths
of happiness
and stops to melt
the skins underneath the echoes
of the evening.
While the sunset
stays a trembling hand
of emotion,
the lips dance between themselves
and inebriate themselves
of tense vertebrae
to locate that faraway sky
that has torn silences
in order to recall ancient sounds of love.
And they continue to run
the voices
resurrecting sun to the morning.
 
2.
 
Mongolfiere
 
Una lacrima cresce tra le mani,
diventa fiume in corsa nelle vene
appena ti allontani.
Non vivo senza il chiaro dei tuoi risvegli,
quando mi baci prima di partire
e stringi il cuscino per annusare l’odore
che ci ha unito nell’infinito.
Ho ascoltato il canto delle serrature
fingendo che fosse solo musica,
ho visto il tuo sorriso svanire
dietro gli angoli d’uno sbadiglio.
Dormo ancora.
Appari dentro i colori d’un arcobaleno
voli nelle mongolfiere dell’anima,
spargi coriandoli di vita dalle sponde del cielo,
accompagni un bimbo al parco della giovinezza,
un uomo abbracciato alla propria immagine
che gioca con palloni di luce
nelle strade bianche della libertà.
Il sogno respira la mia mente.
Trovo una pagina di terra da riempire,
scrivo col fiato qualche domanda,
chiudo gli occhi
e parlo di te alla solitudine.
 
2.
 
Hot-Air Balloons
 
A tear grows between the hands,
it becomes a stream in motion in the veins
as you separate yourself.
I do not live without the bright of your awakening,
when you kiss me before leaving
and you cling to the pillow for the smell
that has joined us in the infinite.
I heard the song of the locks,
imagining that it was only music,
I saw your smile vanish
behind the angles of a yawn.
I sleep yet.
You appear inside the colors of a rainbow,
you fly in hot-air balloons of the spirit,
you scatter confetti of life from the banks of heaven,
you accompany a child to the gardens of youth,
a man nestled to the typical image
that plays with balls of light
in the white streets of freedom.
The dream inhales my intellect.
I find a page of ground to fill,
I write with the breath some question,
I shut the eyes
and I speak of you to the solitude.
 
3.
 
Arcobaleni e rugiade
 
Dove il fiato mi consente
pettino i giorni con un sorriso.
Assorta ad inseguire sogni
come una vita,
con il silenzio dell’anima
provo a fermare I binari
del tempo,
fino a fingermi fioca luce
nel grembo dell’eternità.
Solo un fischio di luna
srotola il mio vagare tra i cieli
e mi riporta
tra le geometrie di terra,
stanca, ad incontrare la realtà.
Sfoglio I grigiori di città
tra arie incattivite da nebbie sporche
ed esistenze ammuffite
nel chiasso e nella velocità.
Mentre i fiumi esplodono
ed I ghiacci si consumano,
con gli occhi infangati di rabbia
cerco un po’ di calma
nel mio mondo ancora immacolato.
Arcobaleni e rugiade
hanno la mia voce.
 
3.
 
Rainbows and Dew
 
Where the breath allows me
I comb the days with a smile.
Absorbed by chasing dreams
as a life,
with silence of the soul
I try to stop the tracks
of time,
I will put an end to pretending to be feeble light
in the lap of eternity.
Only a whistle of the moon
unrolls my wanderings among the heavens
and brings back to me
between the geometries of the earth,
stagnant, to meeting the reality.
I browse the grayness of the city
through songs in captivity of filthy hazes
and molded existences
in noise and in speed.
While rivers burst forth
and ices are consumed,
with eyes stained by anger
I look for a bit of calm
in my world still immaculate.
Rainbows and dew:
they have my voice.
 
4.
 
Calde piume
 
Sintesi di luci imprigionate
nel lento tintinnio d’ormeggi.
Manovre costanti di vento
spingono le vele verso un podio
azzurro
in fusione perfetta col mare.
Gruppi di gabbiani
giocano tra cerchi di sabbia,
sfidando le mutevoli forme
capricciose del sole.
Ali di paradiso,
giganti messaggeri del silenzio
indispettiti dal vocio parallelo
d’altri esploratori d’acque,
lanciano grida convulse
alla conquista di terre lontane.
Trionfa il volo verso l’ignoto.
Oltre le nuvole
tramonti scelti,
destini conclusi,
amori protetti
da calde piume di neve.
 
4.
 
Hot Plumes
 
Synthesis of imprisoned lights
in the slow jingling of moorings.
Steady drives of wind
they push the sails toward
an azure podium
in perfect fusion with the sea.
Packs of seagulls
playing among circles of sand,
challenging fickle forms,
whimsical of the sun.
Wings of paradise,
giant messengers of silence
you get annoyed by a parallel bawl
of the next explorers of waters,
they throw cries unrestrained
to the conquest of distant lands.
Triumph, the flight direction unknown.
Beyond the clouds
sunsets chosen
destinies concluded
loves protected
in the hot plumes of snow.
 
5.
 
Come una Venere
 
Mi apparve muta la sera
in una carezza scura di attimi.
Le sue braccia mi raccolsero
dal profumo del giorno
e mi condussero in una terra
che spiava i sogni e le nuvole.
Sguardi d’angelo
cercavano il mio respiro
per spingere lontano cuori spenti
e lacrime mascherate di gioia.
Indossai la luce
e mi lasciai tuffare tra I rami
ed il grano.
Cantai in coro lodi alla vita
tra il pullulare di polline
e resine.
Mi feci amare dal cielo
come una venere aggrappata
ai venti.
Somigliavo ad una nave
d’argento scalza
pronta a pescare al fondo
le lucciole e gli amori.
Erano bianche le mie impronte
tra i tramonti,
come l’onda trascorsa a
ritornare bagliore.
 
5.
 
As a Venus
 
It seemed to me silent, the night
in a caress dark of moments.
His arms gathered me up
out of the perfume of the day
and they led me into a ground
that spied the dreams and the clouds.
The angel’s glances,
they desired my breath
in order to incite distant hearts extinguished
and masked tears of joy.
I put on the light
and I let go of myself to dip among the branches
and the wheat.
I sang in choir hymns to life
among the swarming of pollens
and resins.
I made the sky love me
as a Venus clinging
to the winds.
I was compared to a silver barefoot ship
ready to fish from the deep
fireflies and romances.
They were white, my imprints
among sunsets,
as a wave passed to
returning shine.
 
 
 
Michela Zanarella
 
Giornalista pubblicista – redattrice di Periodico Italiano Magazine
Presidente della Rete Italiana per il Dialogo Euro-mediterraneo (RIDE-APS)
Presidente A.P.S. “Le Ragunanze”
Extraordinary Ambassador for Naji Naaman’s Foundation for Gratis Culture

 

 
 
Michela Zanarella was born in Cittadella (PD) in 1980. Since 2007 she lives and works in Rome. She published the following collections of poetry: Credo (2006), Risvegli (2008), Vita, infinito, paradisi (2009), Sensualità (2011), Meditazioni al femminile (2012), L’estetica dell’oltre (2013), Le identità del cielo (2013), Tragicamente rosso (2015), Le parole accanto (2017), L’esigenza del silenzio (2018), L’istinto altrove (2019). In Romania the collection Imensele coincidenţe (2015) was published in a bilingual edition. In the United States, the collection translated in english by Leanne Hoppe “Meditations in the Feminine”, was published by Bordighera Press (2018). Author of fiction books and texts for the theater, she is a journalist of Periodico italiano Magazine and Laici.it. She is one of the eight coauthors of Federico Moccia’s novel “La ragazza di Roma Nord” published by SEM. Her poems have been translated into English, French, Arabic, Spanish, Romanian, Serbian, Greek, Portuguese, Hindi and Japanese. She won the Creativity Prize at the Naji Naaman’s 2016 International Award. She is an ambassador for culture and represents Italy in Lebanon for the Naji Naaman Foundation. She is speaker of Radio Double Zero. Corresponding member of the Cosentina Academy, founded in 1511 by Aulo Giano Parrasio. She has worked with EMUI_ EuroMed University, a European inter-university platform, and deals with international relations. She is President of the Italian Network for the Euro-Mediterranean Dialogue (RIDE-APS), Italian leader of the Anna Lindh Foundation (ALF). Honorary President of the WikiPoesia Poetic Encyclopedia.
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Vida. (Life) A Poem by Antonio Arboleda (English & Spanish)

Image: Calle Santo Domingo, Lorca (Spain), showing the house where Antonio was born and his mother, Lucia, in the balcony of their flat.
 
Life
 
To my father, Antonio Martínez Manzanera, who passed away on 28 March 2021
 
You leave behind a trail of victims.
 
How many voices,
unique children
delivered to your light,
did you end up strangling
with your own hands, Life?
 
You kept up the appearances
deceiving those humans
who believed themselves
boundless,
who felt accepted by the matter
of an uncanny universe
that turns out to be
just a sad arrangement
of rough stones and gases,
a universe that enslaves you,
Life,
as its precarious
exotic whim,
forcing you to leapfrog
through chosen planets,
and drag yourself
in travelling theatres
for your vanity,
and your honour,
Life.
 
My thinking carbon molecules,
the impression of my spirit,
are not members
of any ruthless club
of inert particles,
of empty energies,
of graceless big bangs
with no purpose,
with no story to tell.
 
Life,
if there exists a divine mystery,
sweet and tragic,
mother, parricide,
redeeming saviour,
defying the dark,
clumsy ways of physics
that must be you,
Life,
That must be you.
 
 
 
Vida
 
A mi padre, Antonio Martínez Manzanera, fallecido el 28 de marzo de 2021
 
Dejas a tu paso un reguero de víctimas.
 
¿Cuántas voces únicas,
hijas paridas en tu luz,
terminaste ahogando
con tus propias manos, Vida?
 
Tus apariencias engañaron
a más de uno,
que se creyó sin límites,
aceptado por un universo
que resulta estar hecho
de pedruscos y gases,
por un universo
del que no eres más
que lacaya en precario,
Vida,
capricho excéntrico
que de salto en salto se arrastró
por planetas elegidos,
teatros ambulantes
de tu vanidad,
y de tu honra,
Vida.
 
No es mi carbono pensante
ni el espíritu de mi impronta
miembro de ese club despiadado
de partículas inertes,
de vanas energías,
de big bangs
sin propósito, ni narrativa.
 
Vida,
si existe un misterio
y una divinidad,
dulce y trágica,
madre, parricida,
salvadora y redentora,
desafiando las artes oscuras
ramplonas
de las físicas
y las químicas
esa,
Vida,
eres tú.

 

Antonio Martínez Arboleda:
Antonio (Tony Martin-Woods) started to write poetry for the public in 2012, at the age of 43, driven by his political indignation. That same year he also set in motion Poesía Indignada, an online publication of political poetry. He runs the poetry evening Transforming with Poetry at Inkwell, in Leeds, and collaborates with 100 Thousands Poets for Change 100tpc.org/. Tony is also known in the UK for his work as an academic and educator under his real-life name, Antonio Martínez Arboleda at the University of Leeds. His project of digitisation of poetry, Ártemis, compiles more than 100 high quality videos of Spanish poets and other Open Educational Resources. http://www.artemispoesia.com/ .

He is the delegate in the UK of Crátera Revista de Crítica y Poesía Contemporánea , where he also publishes his work as translator from English into Spanish. He published his first volume of poetry in Spanish, Los viajes de Diosa (The Travels of Goddess), in 2015, as a response to the Great Recession, particularly in Spain. His second book, Goddess Summons the Nation Paperback , Goddess Summons the Nation Kindle Edition , is a critique of the ideas of nation and capitalism, mainly in the British Brexit context. It incorporates voices of culprits, victims and heroes with mordacity and rhythm. It consists of 21 poems, 18 of which are originally written in English, available in print and kindle in Amazon and other platforms. Editor’s note: further information bio & academic activities can be found at this link: https://ahc.leeds.ac.uk/languages/staff/91/antonio-martinez-arboleda

 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals and Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Poem by EVA MARÍA CHINCHILLA on a homage supplement published in “Cuadernos del Matemático” Nº 56-58, dedicated to Leonard Cohen,Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop & Amparo Arróspide

          We are the lesser who will never be able to write
          a good love poem than those of us who will never
          be able to write a love poem in time.

 
 
I love your temperature. That’s what I love,
not you
 

Gentle, gallant, it keeps the milky warmth of a blade of wheat
offering itself at dawn
breaking earlier than myself, heralding
— from its delta-
 
the descent of dreams
 
I love your eyes. For their sea, for their fairy
for their
id
 
and whilst each time i shatter the image of blue cliches
you invade that which has no colour, each time leaving it within
that which i’ll never
discover
 
not you
 
I love your caligraphy. Remains of eternity, my inheritance
that you pretend as yet yours
 
voice that sweetly swathes me
and tungsten. Impossible firefly, there
I love your caligraphy because it cleanses each time the wound of having thought i knew you
 
(and the treasure of the hidden note in the third stanza, when id
shipwrecks
where we read
because it cleanses each time the wound of having thought i knew you
 
to read again now
 
because it gently opens the wound whether i knew
how to love
despite not knowing
 
I love your caligraphy because it lets me recognise you
a balm which you prepare for me, it says
 
to recognise has been to know
 
so
 
there exists the possibility that i have
you, that´s what your caligraphy says, it says my
my love for you
that i have not yet known,
 
it extends before my eyes and on my skin bares – a code so familiar as to be indeciph–
sunsets and a bond of views without other qualification than their
certainty
 
this breeze that rustles my skin, carouses my blood, tempers
and forgives me
me, you, me
 
 
 
 

          Somos menos quienes nunca lograremos escribir
          un buen poema de amor que quienes nunca
          lograremos escribir a tiempo un poema de amor

 
 
Amo tu temperatura. Es lo que amo,
y no a ti
 
Suave, donosa, guarda el calor lácteo de la espiga. Se entrega de madrugada, antes
que yo amanece y anuncia
–desde su delta—
 
la bajada de los sueños
 
Amo tus ojos. Por su mar, por su hada
por su
id
 
y mientras yo destrozo cada vez la pantalla de los tópicos
del azul, invades lo que no tiene color, lo dejas dentro cada vez jamás
encontraré
 
no a ti
 
Amo tu caligrafía. Restos de eternidad, herencia mía
que simulas tuya aún
 
voz de tela que me arropa
y wolframio. Luciérnaga imposible, ahí
 
amo tu caligrafía, porque desinfecta, cada vez, la herida de haber creído conocerte
 
(y la nota del tesoro escondido de la tercera estrofa, cuando naufrague
id
donde hemos leído
porque desinfecta, cada vez, la herida de haber creído conocerte
para ahora leer
 
porque abre con suavidad la herida de si supe amar
lo que conocía
a pesar de no sabr que lo
 
amo tu caligrafía porque me deja reconocerte
un bálsamo que tú preparas para mí, dice
 
reconocer ha sido conocer
 
entonces
 
existe la posibilidad de que te haya
a ti eso dice tu caligrafía, dice mi
te amo a ti
que yo no he sabido saber,
 
extiende ante mis ojos y en mi piel expone –en un código tan familiar como indesci—
amaneceres y miradas en unidad, sin otro calificativo que el de
 
indudables
 
esa brisa se extiende por mi piel, navega por mi sangre, me templa
y me perdona
 
a mí, a ti, a mí
 
 
 
 
 
 
Eva Chinchilla, evachin. Poet. Author of Años Abisinios (2011), Verbo rea (2003), and a third poetry book currently in production. Participant in anthologies such as La noche y sus etcéteras. 24 voces alrededor de San Juan de la Cruz (2017), Hilanderas (2006) o Estruendomudo (2003). She is also a board member of poetry magazine Nayagua, which is a publication by the José Hierro Poetry Foundation, where she was a teacher from 2007 to 2016. Member of the Genialogías Association and the 8que80 collective of female poets; co-editor of Diminutos Salvamentos poetry collection. She walks along the haiku and flamenco lyrics paths. A philologist (hispanist), with a degree free master in continuous training and questioning. Born in Madrid (1971).
 
 
Eva Chinchilla, evachin. Poeta. Autora de Años abisinios (2011), Verbo rea (2003), y un tercer poemario en prensa; incluida en antologías como La noche y sus etcéteras. 24 voces alrededor de San Juan dela Cruz (2017), Hilanderas (2006) o Estruendomudo (2003). Forma parte del consejo de la revista de poesía Nayagua, que se edita desde la Fundación Centro de Poesía José Hierro de Getafe, donde fue profesora desde 2007 hasta 2016. Integrante de la Asociación Genialogías y el colectivo 8que80 de mujeres poetas; coeditora de la colección diminutos salvamentos; andariega del camino del haiku y de las letrillas flamencas. Filóloga (hispanista), con master sin titulación en formación y cuestionamiento continuos. Nació en Madrid (1971).
 
 
 
 
 
 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules and Next Arrivals, collected poems, and the recently published Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)