Leer Comida
by Andrés Catalán
Gotea tinta de las comisuras de mi boca.
- Mark Strand
September 2012
La magdalena de Marcel Proust, las uvas
del pícaro de Tormes, los banquetes
de Gargantúa, las lentejas del viernes
de Quijote, el pastel
de riñones que Bloom llama menú
digno de un príncipe, el café
y las naranjas en la mañana al sol
de Stevens, los arándanos de Frost,
las dietas excesivas que Mann hace ingerir
a Hans Castorp, la redonda
noche de Miguel y su sol en sigilo.
Los días como letras de una sopa
en ese célebre poema de Howard Nemerov,
la vida a cucharillas de T. S. Eliot,
las palabras que caben en un plato
y que alguien, en algún lugar, se traga.
 
Reading Food
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
- Mark Strand
The madeleine of Marcel Proust, the grapes
of the rascal from Tormes, the feasts
of Gargantua, the every Friday lentils
of Quixote, the kidney
pie that Bloom calls a dinner
fit for a prince, the coffee
and oranges in the sunny morning
of Stevens, the blueberries of Frost,
the excessive diets that Mann forces
into Hans Castorp, the round
night of Miguel and his stealthy sun.
The days like letters in a soup
in that famous poem by Howard Nemerov,
the life in coffee spoons of T. S. Eliot,
the words that can fit on a plate and
that someone, somewhere, swallows.
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Andrés Catalán was born in Salamanca, Spain, in 1983. He writes in Spanish and he is the author of two books of poetry, Composiciones de lugar (2010) and Mantener la cadena de frío (2012), the last one written in co-authorship with Ben Clark. He has translated to Spanish books by Robert Hass, Robert Frost and Stephen Dunn and contributes to several Spanish literary magazines. He publishes a blog: lemonocledemononcle.blogspot.com. This poem, translated by the author, is from the upcoming book Mantener la cadena de frío (Maintain the cold chain), in collaboration with Spanish-English poet Ben Clark. |
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Photo used under Creative Commons.