Embraceable

By JUAN CARLOS MARSET 

Translated by ILAN STAVANS 

 

Abrazable

A Piedad Bonnett

Irremplazable tú,

voz tú vacía

de mi vacío en ti

inconsolable.

Mi tú irremediable

tu mí espejo

de tu reflejo

en mí. Nada clavada

en tu silencio,

callada voz del sueño

desalmada

entre mi cuerpo

y el tuyo deshaciendo

este recuerdo

 

de mi abrazable tú,

voz tú que alientas

al ahuyentar el ángel

que nos dimos

cuando dijimos

lo que puede que nunca

nos haya sucedido.

 

Embraceable

To Piedad Bonnett

Irreplaceable you,

voice, your empty

of my inconsolable

emptiness in you.

My irremediable you,

you, my mirror

of your reflection

 

in me. Unforced

into your silence,

silent voice of heartless

dream

between my body

and yours, undoing

this memory

 

of my embraceable you,

you, voice that strengthens

while banishing the angel

we gave ourselves

when we said

what might never have

happened to us.

 

[Purchase Issue 13 here]

Juan Carlos Marset was born in Albacete, Spain, in 1963. He is editor-in-chief of the magazine Sibila, professor of aesthetics and theory of the arts at Universidad de Sevilla, and author of Puer profeta, Leyenda napolitana, Laberinto, and Días que serán, where “Abrazable/Embraceable” is included.

 

Ilan Stavans is publisher of Restless Books, Lewis-Sebring Professor in Latin American and Latino Culture at Amherst College, and author of On Borrowed Words, Dictionary Days, and Quixote. His latest books are I Love My Selfie (with ADÁL), Pablo Neruda: All the Odes, and a Spanglish translation of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince.

Embraceable

Related Posts

A hospital bed.

July 2024 Poetry Feature: Megan Pinto

MEGAN PINTO
I sit beside my father and watch his IV drip. Each drop of saline hydrates his veins, his dry cracked skin. Today my father weighs 107 lbs. and is too weak to stand. / I pop an earbud in his ear and keep one in mine. / We listen to love songs.

Image of a sunflower head

Translation: to and back

HALYNA KRUK
hand-picked grains they are, without any defect, / as once we were, poised, full of love // in the face of death, I am saying to you: / love me as if there will never be enough light / for us to find each other in this world // love me as long as we believe / that death turns a blind eye to us.

many empty bottles

June 2024 Poetry Feature: New Poems by Our Contributors

KATE GASKIN
We were at a long table, candles flickering in the breeze, / outside on the deck that overlooks the bay, which was black / and tinseled where moonlight fell on the wrinkled silk / of reflected stars shivering with the water.