Sunday, August 15, 2010

The Best Snorkel To Buy

Contents / Speaking of Poetry 21






Editorial Ricardo H. Herrera: Speaking of poetry



Figures

Jason Wilson:
Borges in his poetry last

Nicholas Magaril:
Borges & Whitman Gesualdo Bufalino


be or again become
Alfonso Berardinelli
:
Auden, a poet who speaks


Topics
Alfonso Berardinelli
:
The Latin heritage

Mariano Pérez Carrasco
The adventure of the order

Ricardo H. Herrera:
of improvisation aesthetic awareness

Marcos Bertorello: Walter
Cassara in critical interventions


Poetry

Alejandro Nicotra:
The task to be accomplished

Alicia Genovese: Blue collapses


Elisa Molina:
Life on the banks

Iván Fernández: Village


Enrique Campos: Chiaroscuro



End versions

Ingeborg Bachmann: Talk from the silence
Note preliminary Irene M. versions Jules Weiss

Supervielle: The survivor
Note preliminary versions of Santiago Venturini

Gesualdo Bufalino: Words of a dying
Note provincial preliminary versions Diego Bentivegna


Reviews

Rafael Felipe Oteriño:
The expression a classic (in Joseph Brodsky Lullaby and Other Poems ) Alicia Genovese


:
The lingering smell of the olea fragrans (about Emma Barrandégui, Complete Poems )

Carlos Surghi: The most beautiful
hell (on Romilio Ribero, The travel book wise men )

Rafael Felipe Oteriño:
shift towards life (Mariano Pérez Carrasco, Construction of ash and other poems )

Rafael Felipe Oteriño:
Fe in secret (on Javier Foguet , light humor )

Osvaldo Bossi: Private
at night (on Lucas Soares Moving )

Osvaldo Bossi
Episodes of a life away

Where To Buy Bulk Pasta

Ricardo H. Herrera / Editorial

[Full Text]


back four decades in time and try to remember what free verse meant to me over the years that I worked with enthusiasm. Basically, a visual fact: a line measured by eye, cut eye and an ear never fully satisfied with the results obtained, arranging and rearranging words that went up or down from one line to another by following the movements of a chess without rules. The theory of free verse cut is elastic enough to admit many interpretations as there are poets in the world. For this reason, the unrest caused by the free verse who cultivates honesty, I mean: in whom seeks to achieve through it one way, can not be easily denied, especially when it aims at intensifying the music of verse and verifies that you are devoid of the precision instruments that allow arouse it.
began for me a while after learning that Pessoa has been defined with great irony in stating the poetics of his heteronym Ricardo Reis: the period of discipline of rhythm. "The discipline of rhythm," says Reis-you learn to just be part of the soul: the verse that produces emotion is born subject to the discipline. Naturally ordered emotion: an emotion is an emotion naturally ordered translated into an orderly pace, as the emotion given the pace and order in it the order that the pace there. "In these lines without waste (whose humor lies the dismantling of the classical mechanics, which tends to confuse the natural with what is actually quite unnatural) I want to emphasize his use of the word translation Reis to tie the concepts of emotion and rhythm that marks the passage bond Pessoa's avant-garde to classical. Developing his theory, one could speak of two instances rhythm: the first lies in the way of personal emotion to an equally personal rate (ie, disordered), the second, when translated properly, that is when our emotion is subjected to a rhythmic system impersonal (ie, ordered).
Every poet pours his emotions in a rhythmic order, the difference between the classical avant-garde lies in the way we carry out this operation: the first freedom, discipline second. Too freely say the classicist, to replicate the pioneering excessive discipline. Freedom means: making use of free verse, lingua franca of the time. Discipline means, making use of technical equipment provided by the tradition of language, the disciplined rhythm that further discipline by submitting to the impersonality of the fixed forms, but by dint of rapport with a model established by custom for centuries has ended up becoming "part of the soul."
So far the proposition has no problems. The problems begin when it is found that usually the versolibrismo the avant-garde is a bit less than complete ignorance of the technical workings of the tradition that precedes it in time, an assertion that can not possibly be reversible, at least not for Pessoa. This is particularly evident in the field of translation, when dealing with texts that are subject to a fixed form. The translation involves a wholehearted tribute to the voice of another, a truly unlimited membership, and deserve only the voice that you love. It makes little sense, therefore, ignore the qualities of that voice when trying to imitate, ie translate modern free verse poets who have challenged the failure of the vehicle, such as Frost and Auden, among many others. Doing so helps to disguise the true profile of modernity: a phenomenon as complex and contradictory as the many voices and many poetry-all valid-that populate the universe Pessoa.
However, the really strange is not in this, but in the conjecture that the flexibility of free verse is more pleasing to most readers of modern poetry in translation, even when the poet translated not use this vehicle at any time. Such an example: accept the strict rhythm when you hear Auden recited in an English that is not achieved fully understand, but in the case of Auden translated strongly preferred trump musicality. It seems that our language has sided poetic prose; supports the song only when the voice has the character of an instrument devoid of meaning. Here too it is appropriate to quote another of heteronyms Pessoa: "Poetry," says Bernardo Soares in the 'Book desasosiego'-help the children to come closer to the future prose, because poetry is, of course, childish, mnemonic, and initial help. "
translate the comments in my code: poetry was born in a time when we had a circular conception of time, was conceived in itself, therefore, as a clear and stunned area: a fruit of language, hence in an age like ours, whose conception of time is another fixed forms not satisfying. Once, while traveling, the bus that took me going through a planting of fruit trees, I noticed One of my companions, a boy not too young, but not exclusively urban affiliation doubt, ask what were these yellow balls hanging from the plants, was struck with the disconcerting news that the mandarins were born from trees, something similar happens to the avant-garde, inhabits a world that ignores the relationship between the captive and the conception of poetry is in its origin, development is still in effect for the ears of some modern poets: Frost, Auden and Pessoa, among other equally remarkable.
One last digression: why could assert the primacy Pessoa future of prose and simultaneously cultivate poetic forms of extreme rhythmic density, as are the odes of Ricardo Reis? The cohesion of these odes is nothing infantile at times, it seems that the poet tried to revive the oracular dimension of language, as if it will advance directly to the core archaic poetry: a syntax thinned the maximum demands of form and rhythm , without this we can speak of Baroque. Brevity is the magnetizing the classical north of Reis: short, but vibrant pace expressivity that adheres strongly. Transcribe a brief ode to the end of 1928 dated: Negue-me sorte tudo a less see-la, / That eu, 'sem stoic toughness, / Na sentence levied do Destino / Quero enjoy as letters. ("Luck, less to see, / Niégueme all: no stoic toughness, / The recorded statement of Destiny / enjoy it letter by letter, translated Octavio Paz.) Certainly, we in the antipodes of prose, free verse also , the rhythm of these verses hieratic carefully measured makes that clear. But what these lines tell us, while his last will oppose the symbol of the unknown and somehow, obtain a transparency it as hard as quartz? Basically, they say the joy of expression. Reis is willing to accept anything to be able to express: that is the limit of his stoicism. Equivalent expression to redemption in this short verse: A good definition of poetry. The elements of verse mnemonics (syllable number and stress emphatically) recorded in the mind the words, okay, but no trace of childishness in it. On the contrary, it seems that loss is a maturity that speaks laconically from the imaginary old hatched by Pessoa in the odes of Reis. Hence, Alvaro de Campos, the heteronymous avant-garde, could say of his colleague: "I do not criticize Reis over another poet. Really appreciate it, and indeed, over many, many others. His inspiration is tight and dense, his thought compactly sober, his emotion real but too directed towards that point called Ricardo Reis. But it is a great poet-here-I admit, if there are great poets out of the silence of their own hearts. "

Charlotte North Carolina And Gay Sauna

Speaking of Poetry 21 Jason Wilson / Borges in his poetry last

[Excerpts. Full Text of print]

Each day counts
Geoffrey Grigson

Introduction. The late poetry of Jorge Luis Borges often read primarily because it was written by Borges, and also because many times in these texts is Borges himself who seduces the reader seeking clues biographical. In his fiction a person is projected complex literary, ironic, detached from itself, and in his later poems, however, the sincerity dimension takes on particular importance, allowing the curious reader intimate access to Borges. However this opening, in 70 years the poetry of Borges no longer dominated the fashion and innovating. Few young poets read it to discover or communicate with a teacher. Roberto Juarroz, according to Jorge Fondebrider assure you learned nothing of the poetry of Borges. There is a list of poets from the 60's that influenced a lot about the new poets "of them all ... you could learn. Borges, no. "The reception of the later poems Borges, one of the few Argentine poets' own deeply metaphysical weight "(as the same Fondebrider) changed sharply with the decline of the avant-garde. Another factor in the marginalization suffered by the poetry of Borges derives from the fact that he frequented only their favorite poets, often British, Anglo-Saxon or Nordic, and had little regard for contemporary poetry. He told the American poet Willis Barnstone: Nineteenth Century I'ma writer ... I do not think of myself as a contemporary of surrealism ... [I am a writer of the nineteenth century ... I do not see it as contemporary surrealism ...]
When he felt the desire to write, he resorted to dictation. Defined the poem as something involuntary. Lines created in your mind and then recite aloud. His craft and his skill metric assured the survival of his poems on the page after the slow process imposed by blindness. One consequence of the finding-the poem is not raised, the poem "happens" - is that the six poems collected late breeders what was happening to you as Borges did not submit an order, making nearly all these poems circumstantial pieces of time. It is difficult to tell whether the poems follow a chronology. Apparently, to reach sufficient numbers, his publisher for publishing. Formally, it changes little Throughout its last six books. Between deep pink (1975), to iron coin (1976), History of the night (1977), figure (1981), Atlas (1984) and The conspirators (1985) have formally homogeneous cycle of poems or musical variations composed by a poet of more than seventy years. The books call it the "miscellaneous" and sometimes went poems from one book to another to complete it or give it body. These last years were prolific in comparison to those that mediate between 1930 and 1958, during which time he wrote very little poetry (only twenty-one poems). [...]



late breeders in his books Borges continued to explore the excitement of the paradox of time exploring it no longer has the analytical nature of his first approaches to this issue. The allusions in the aphorism of Heraclitus about the flow of time like a river, are the best capture this obsessive process Borges. He apologized the abuse was the fragment of Heraclitus: "I've repeated too many times," he said. True, but never as an abstract concept. With aging, the concept took an emotional bias on the one hand stressed the uncertainties of the finite and, moreover, made him realize that nothing really ends at all. Heraclitean endorsed the sentence and, having spent life pondering the mystery and anxiety of time, say it is as if it had intended that sentence. Simultaneously, against the inexorable flow of time, the poem, echoing a vast poetic tradition (Homer, Dante, Milton, Browning, Verlaine, Yeats, Frost, etc..) Seems to stop this flow. From this tradition comes the lifeblood of the Borges interim idealism and "fiction" memorable, "The Secret Miracle" (another name for the magical effect of a poem.) Thus, the time fugitive, the act of reading a living tradition, a poem and art in general, become, for the old Borges, urgent matter, beyond literature. To explore the time and old age in the late poetry of Borges, it is necessary to analyze the oft blindness as a curse and blessing, adding life and loneliness, both the author and the reader, to reflect "the growth of the mind of a poet "(in the words of William Wordsworth's Prelude.) It is also necessary to outline the literary theme dear to Borges, the emotional resonance of the homeland and courage, adding some commentary on art as a journey to identity. Not to mention the surprise appearance of love poems in the late night legend (1977). [...]



blindness and old age. The poetry of old age was defined by WB Yeats in his poem A Prayer for Old Age. In that poem, "a wise old man", a "foolish, passionate man", as perceived decrepitude as wisdom and passion of youth and ignorance. In the beautiful poem An Acre of Grass, the poet, "at the end of his life," seeks "the frenzy of an old and refers to Timon, Lear, and William Blake with his old man's eagle mind [mind eagle old]. The notion of some "old" images of a bearded Merlin, gurus, Bible prophets and wise old men (Jungian archetypes) abound in our culture. In a now distant time when a few reached old age, were seen as old as sources of wisdom. There is definitely a strange freedom in old age. In the wonderful poem "In Praise of Shadows," the poet Borges defines a "this" against a finding that "the animal is dead or almost dead." The poet could face death, freedom of sexuality, fashion and the ambition. But to understand how in the late poetry of Borges managed the categories of the "wise" and the "free" is necessary to link both to blindness, both biographical and literary, drawing on the poetry of Milton. It is obvious that Borges She went to Milton by empathy, discovered that Milton is totally blind in 1652. However, there is much that is foreign to Milton Borges, starting from a very puritanical version of God and ending with the political regicide that marked him. As for the poems, Borges avoids Latin syntax, the epic ambition and the long poem, but instead exploits the use of blank verse (unrhymed, but measured). Borges leaves out many critics, from Dr Johnson to TS Eliot, who see the poetry of Milton "strangled" by the weight of the erudition, lacking "real passion" and sensuality "blighted" by so much reading (Eliot). Robert Graves's poems found Milton's "detestable" and concluded that Milton was a minor poet with an acute ear for music. At the same time, there are similarities Biographical that contribute to mutual identification, although the obvious affinity between the two poets is blindness. For Milton, blindness was not a sin or a calamity, but the opportunity to penetrate Things Merely of Their color and surface [things by their mere color and size]. Blindness forced them both Milton and Borges, to look inside, to contemplate what is "real and permanent" (Milton Platonism). A lack physical endowed them with a great moral force, a Christian back also evident in Borges. As is so Milton thanked God for having given an inward light and far surpassing [an inner light and more intense]. It is for the blind poet see and tell / of Things invisible to mortal sight [see and tell things invisible to mortal sight]. This is the calm acceptance of the "inner happiness" of blindness, but, as in the case of Borges, there are also dark sides, especially in the famous last sonnet of 1658, about the death of his second wife. Milton's "saw" in a dream, rescued from death, dressed in white and veiled, and concludes his sonnet: But o as to embrace me she inclined / I waked, she Fleder, Brought back my day and night [O bending for hold me / I woke, the day she ran away and returned it to me at night].
In his passion to understand "his blindness, Milton made a record of all blind poets before him in the classical tradition, including Tiresias. The blind old Homer sung by the blind was exploited by Tennyson in his Tiresias (1885), where the blind says "the truth that no man can believe." To TS Eliot in The Waste Land, this "old man with wrinkled breasts" became a model of how to penetrate beyond sex differences. There is an invitation to understand "no eyes", the eyeless of Milton. The first poem in the figure of Borges entitled "Round", evokes blindness as a "sensitive shadows" and concludes with: "a recreation of jasmine / and a faint sound of water, which conjured / memory deserts" (references to smell and hearing, but not the view).
Borges offers us a life-won wisdom from the top of his age and blindness. Almost all the poems end with any sense of the place or the identity or art. The last verse of the deep pink, "my eyes Dead" plays with the impending death and blindness through the Persian blind Attar. The poem "Proteus", with its obvious title, ends with "you, who are one and many men," summarizing the single version but is expected to Borges about identity. Several poems end with the word "nothing", referring to the Buddhist extinction of personality and dissolved in the literature, as in the poem "I": "I echo, oblivion, nothing." Borges was preparing his own death. In "The Dream" portrays the poet as "resigned and smiling." That resignation and that joy was similar to those of Milton, they also reached via the old age and blindness. Milton, however, is more ambiguous. In Samson Agonistes, the poet laments: O loss of sight, of thee I complain MOST! / Blind Among enemies, O Worse Than chains, / Dungeon, or beggery, or decrepit age! [O loss of sight, I just complain more. / Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, / jail, or begging or decrepitude!]. But the book concludes with: And calm of mind all passion Spent [having consumed a calm mind and all passion], agreeing with the target. Borges in his Introduction to English literature, says that the "masterpiece" of Milton's Samson fighter, with "splendid verses, where the blind Samson, surrounded by enemies, is a faithful mirror of Milton. In the essay "Blindness" Seven Nights (1980), Milton is a poet who overcomes blindness and running his work, "as Borges himself, made" casual people. " In the same way, Borges was released from the animal passions of his body, thanks to the privilege of being "old" and "blind."
get older poet's increasing capacity to wonder and at the same time, undermining any pretense and bluster. The direct and prosaic language of classical poetry in a poem is defined as "the dialect of today / [which] will say to my eternal things." In the foreword to the figure (1981) reveals his keen awareness of a poet whose work lacks the magical rhythms, strange metaphors and long poems, including a tradition of poets "intellectuals" as his beloved Emerson. Insists that "no single beautiful word" in his work. This refusal to pretend beauty also emerge as a recognized ignorance and carried through all his later work with expressions like "I can not understand," and know nothing, "I do not understand the game, true to the simplicity of Montaigne . In the preface to Atlas, summarizes his life and old age as a continuous discovery "by the near-certainty of his own ignorance." This modesty appellant persuades because it manifests in the selection of the words themselves. Even the technical resources are limited an obvious metric, which does not stand out, especially his use of endecalsilabo, the Alexandrian, the sonnet "protein", his rhymes and the enumeration (as enumerations fascinated!) to its abuse of anaphora also evident in Whitman. Modesty lexical and rhythmic achieved in these poems out of fashion and history now we are immersed in reading, she also timeless.
addition, blindness helps us to respect the suffering of the poet, as Borges tells us it is both a key, a freedom, a cry of self-pity. The very title of the deep pink draws the veil of appearances and returns us to the archetypes que yacen detrás: la rosa mistica de Dante. El poeta reconoce este estrato de la experiencia universal: “rosa profunda, ilimitada, íntima”. Abundan las referencias a la ceguera y a la mala memoria. Todo se desvanece; también los libros son “simulacros de la memoria”, y una vieja foto “ya puede ser de cualquiera”. Borges típicamente reduce los escritores a nombres genéricos como El Marino, el griego, el persa, el sajón, el tirano, Virgilio, Shakespeare; él mismo llega convertirse en Judas o en Browning, porque en el acto de escribir o de leer no hay lugar para la individualidad; solamente hay lugar para la tradición y sus asociaciones. Esta necesidad de ir a lo esencial (What is beyond the visible) proposed the condensation and ellipsis as first-class creative tools, which generate and gain the confidence of the reader, that reader that Borges can be expected to continue delving into the key words from your vocabulary as the tension between the sword and pen, the significance of dreams, nostalgic versions of the country, mirrors, tigers, labyrinths, the love of books and reading, and time always irreversible. [...]



Love the old . The biographical narrative of the muses and love of Borges is well known. In his poems of old age there is a kind of loving outcome. History of the night, a delightful short poem entitled "Thorgilsson Gunnar (1816-1879)" offers six verses about the past, with swords, empires and Shakespeare, to conclude emphatically, "I want to remember that kiss / to kiss me in Iceland. " That "that" isolates the kiss and pleasure league with Icelandic associations. Nothing worth remembering in the history except that kiss. This poem seems to surprise late WB Yeats poem entitled Politics, where that girl standing there makes a mockery of Roman politics, Russian and English, all the wars and alarms, to conclude: But O That I were young again / And held her in my arms! [Oh to be young again and shake it in my arms]. But the desire of the Yeats old (does not touch on the verbal memory) differs from the old kiss Borges (a physical memory). "Anthem" includes a long list works as denial of the importance of history, again thanks to the blessing of a kiss, "because a woman has kissed you." The love song "The lover" provides a list from the binomial anaphoric "I believe", generating a sequence of mental illusions about the world. He concludes: "Only you. You, my misfortune / and my happiness, inexhaustible and pure. " The Muse, beyond the senses and the torments of sex excites the poet, like any lover who hesitates. Old age has not diminished the uncertainty of love. How strange that a poet like Borges to echo the common places of Becquer's "Poetry ... is you!" Of the Rimas. "Causes" is another list that ends with the fate of the lovers: "All those things were needed / to find our hands." Another physical reference: hands. "Waiting", the common place of poetry in which the lover trembling doubt, is a poem that makes a concept about what happens in the universe while waiting for his beloved, says: "(In my chest, measured blood watch / the fearful time the wait). " As expected the old poet, a monk ring with an anchor, die in Sumatra tiger and nine men will die in Borneo. This love of an adolescent pseudo claims against the reality of old age. The poet looks into a mirror and sees his soul bruised with shadows and sins, "but without naming them. Another poem lists everything that could have happened, including "the son I never had." However all experienced, and repetitively, the poet never left the library of his father, never grew up, and now finds himself alone. In a dramatic monologue, giving voice to Cervantes, repeat "I will not be who I am" old "in my sad flesh celibate." But everything happens, happens even love, as in the poem "GA Bürger, useless wisdom of the old Heraclitean follows the evolution of time:" I knew that this is nothing / that last fleeting particle / and we are made to forget ... "In his lecture on blindness, Seven Nights, Borges quoted verses of the greatest poets of Spain, Fray Luis de León, where old age is conceived as a solitary life," free love, jealousy , / hate, hope and suspicion ", which somewhat contradicts however the final words of the conference:" But I think to live without love is impossible, fortunately impossible, "where Borges certainly refers to the female love, not divine. In his work, love is idealized, distances of sexuality and desire, emerges in old age as a "new and simple happiness." Borges always felt attracted by the possibility of happiness, but life's disallowed to old age (see his poem "Happiness"), as confirmed, in English, I no Longer Regard as unattainable happiness, eleven, long ago, I did [I can not conceive of happiness as something unattainable, once, long ago, I did]. Late love poems by women reveal intimate aspects of his personality, but without falling into the details of a confession. Kiss mask the platonic love, purely mental, lacks the sensuality of the kiss of Rubén Darío: "red hot kiss." According to Borges, passionate and lonely life of Emily Dickinson was based on a preference for "dream of love and perhaps imagine," a phrase that provides a key to grab his later poems of love. Borges in his dream of love is not enough to participate in the free look and honest assessment of Montaigne on the subject, who in his essay on Virgil confessed: "I find more pleasure watching the sweet intercourse of two beautiful young people, or just imagining , which involved me in a sad mixture without form. "
Conclusion
. The old poet's poems are their own, I mean, do not constitute a poetic on the subject. There is a poetics of aging because every old is old in its way, no sociological equivalent. Borges does not resemble the old poet WB Yeats and the passionate old Robert Graves, whom he visited in his "patriarchal splendor." The poetry of Borges is old literary classic and its techniques are obvious and repetitive. However, there are a delicacy and sincerity that constantly reaffirm the integrity of poetry. In addition, a refinement of the references to the other senses, hearing, smell, taste, somewhat offsetting status of blind, the fact that he transformed into what Milton called eyeless in Gaza. What we hear is the subtle music of colloquial diction, his voice never ugly with the use of slang, the smell is associated with roses and jasmine that abound in his work, the flavor is highlighted in several partnerships with water. For example, "the taste of water" can sometimes defeat "misery." This element-water-going down the throat suggests a Heraclitean flow internalized, which summarizes the Borges thought about time and identity. The water cools the poet's voice, like a spring or fountain. Water is archetypal, primordial, "The cool water in the throat / of Adam "or repeating themselves almost verbatim, the" freshness / water elemental in the throat. " In the poem "Someone", 1966, the poet drew up a list of the essentials of life as "the taste of water." This feeling of freshness liquid momentarily relieved, perhaps because as time passes and life. We are close to the archetype of the old, offering wisdom about the vital sensations and fleeting time, and Oedipus at Colonus (in the translation of Yeats), when the aged and blind hero finds his predestined place of death, bringing blessings to the land I agree. In the poem "Góngora" another dramatic monologue, the Baroque cordobes confesses too dependent on mythologies, of Virgil, the Latin, in poems that are mazes arduous, with replacing the world metaphors (pearls instead of tears). The criticism of himself that makes Gongora / Borges poems leads other old-age, ruling out the erudition, intellectual mazes and metaphors in favor of plain-talk of Milton: "I want to return to those common things / water, bread, a jug, roses, another list of archetypal associations. The elemental poetic form that takes is evident in the closure of the poems always end with a formula that summarizes everything. They are like fables, didactic poems close to, but based on hard experience of aging blind. We teach us, the readers who come to the end (the endgame), what important role to play can get art in the last stage of life. At the crossroads of old age and blindness, Borges said that "the words come from Milton" poetic rather than philosophical.

Sbi Unit Plus-ii Regular Projection

Alfonso Berardinelli / Latino heritage


[Excerpts. Full Text of print]


was born in Rome, and that fact until this moment had never seemed very remarkable. But now I am in Mexico City, participating in a symposium on "America in the poetry, and I perceive this as quite bizarre, almost embarrassing.
It occurs to me that someone, upon hearing that I was born in Rome, might absent-mindedly consider myself able to read with ease the Latin poets, the most famous Virgil, but also the most difficult, as Persio. Obviously not. More than reading, when I open the pages of a Latin poet that I have not studied before, I have to work on deciphering, translating mentally. And, overall, my familiarity with Latin literature is scarce. As I'm not a specialized scholar, it will look at this from my experience, to offer only occasional personal reflections, apologizing in advance by the very nature subjective, arbitrary perhaps, what I say.
My literary culture is in essence the twentieth century: not only because I am dedicated to teach classes in contemporary Italian literature, but also because for a while, almost a century, the literary culture of the majority of writers and critics are not says more about the classics, on the contrary, it is submitted (if possible hold onto a fluid matter and motion) on the Modern Denial of traditional models or new models proposed modernity. In Italy, the last time the Latin classics formed the bedrock of the poetic culture was with Carducci and Pascoli (and less with D'Annunzio, whose dominant culture was French) at the end of last century [XIX]. For that was, at least in relation to poetry, guiding the country in the West for about a century since Baudelarie to the Surrealists, the break with the classical models had been made before the beginning of the twentieth century and had been net. Baudelaire knew very well the Latin poetic language: I could write (from years of school) verses in Latin, and its Poetry is always observed a very strong presence of the syntactic construction, metric regularity and rhetorical effects. But in the twentieth century Latin, understood as an influence, too indirect, of the older models, disappears. The French writer Julien Gracq, in the early 60s, in an essay entitled Pourquoi la littérature breathe wrong [Why bad breath literature], it was a problem as so essential as it usually neglected by critics: the problem of what is the "basis of culture, grow and feed the works of our time":

For classical authors, we know perfectly that this base is Latin literature, is the Holy Scripture, less frequently in Greek literature. If we add, with a less important role, some playwrights English and Italian poets, we have the common base on which they feed, approximately, both Ronsard and Racine, both Montaigne and Voltaire, and Chateaubriand and Pascal ... Now nothing seems to be in the common culture of most contemporary writers ... We still live in the conviction, fostered by the university programs and rates manuals that our culture always grows from that root, very long and also very narrow, which is immersed in three thousand years of Greco-Roman tradition to reach the age of Homer ... There were at all times in France writers who did not know the Latin culture, but almost never been attempted poets now, the surrealist group, born after 1920, is undoubtedly the first school in France where most poets never learned a word of Latin. [...]



Therefore, surrealism, with his theory of "automatic writing" profoundly transformed not only the idea of \u200b\u200bpoetry, poetic text, but especially how to work of the poets: dismissed the metrical rules, rhetorical devices, the very idea of \u200b\u200bunity and "organicity" of the poetic text, which is the basis of many aesthetic theories of the twentieth century also. The permanent revolution, which moved in long waves, perhaps colder gradually, reached the mid-'60s, to the authors of Tel Quel, to Paul Celan and Allen Ginsberg (three very different cases in three different cultural areas also .) Along with some writers as Eliot, Mayakovsky and Brecht, Surrealism has been the movement and most influential literary ideology of the twentieth century poetry, especially in the area neo-Latin. The fact that, as stated by Julien Gracq, the surrealists did not know Latin is just a way to say that under the effect of its revolution, the Latin poets as models and all the classical poetic from Horace to Boileau lost value and importance in the formation of any poet or apprentice poet.
When I first thought he wanted to write, was a high school student. I still remember the first reading of Virgil in the original text in Latin. That school experience was mixed with something else. Fifteen or sixteen years we may like Virgil. There is not rich in adventures early as Homer, and passionately sincere, "tender and violent," as Catullus. It is too mature, too controlled and mysterious.
The Aeneid is an epic example of twilight and moralized (poetry reflected or sentimental, as Schiller would say) that does not focus on the boredom of the long school readings. Personally, at sixteen, he preferred The Sound and the Fury by Faulkner. L `homme revolte Camus was my bedside. However, Tolstoy had read many pages praising the divine nature and the moral simplicity of the Russian peasant who knows physically your order and tremendous strength. When the next year, I met with Eliot's Quartets, regulated according to the rhythm of the four seasons and the combination of the four elements (air, earth, fire, water) and read his famous essay, "What is a classic?, then I started to be curious and be attracted by Virgil. Eliot makes the model author "mature", which allows you to find individual talent in the most happy and useful existing tradition, and create a new one after it. Maturity and sense of time and continuity. The opposite of the surreal and the rebellion of the talking Albert Camus. All this had a moral and historical sense to the English poet. Eliot had written that essay in 1945 in the city of London was devastated by the bombing of Nazi Germany, and thought I needed to go back to the origin of good and evil in our civilization West, so the "maturity" classic maturity of Virgil, poet of the defeated and the humble, took a superlative value. [...]



Horacio is the polar opposite of the Latin poetic literature has been a model for centuries and was the voice of the most memorable epigrammatic and a moral self-defensive-writer connected to state power but very jealous of their privacy. Horacio, that is the poet of mediocritas aurea, the golden mean, the awareness of the limits that encourages us to settle for little. Horacio, the enemy of the vain, strenuous and excessive ambitions. Unheroic, he. Enemy of the excesses. Satirical poet, unable sublime tones. Est modus in rebus, and there must be a limit for everything: this will repeat the "mediocre", anxious and susceptible Horacio along a tradition that made us uncomfortable. [...]


Then Horacio seems to return to Bertolt Brecht, a Marxist dialectical maliciously, who justifies Stalinism but fear him, reciting the role of classical scholar, a Taoist and a little bit Epicurean. Horacio
is always mentioned among the English teachers Wystan H. Auden: for Horace knew how little you can modify and improve human nature (nothing is more alien than the messianic dream and almost "Marcusian" of the fourth eclogue of Virgil) and does not ignore how vulgar and blind are the ambitions, especially in trying to guide others, how foolish, finally, imposing policies that interfere with individuals sacrifice personal freedom in the name an improvement in public life. Horacio
then arrive on time for the appointment with prudence, with disappointment, with the cunning self-defense, adding an Epicurean moderation to total pessimism. He writes in the sixth satire of the first book

go where I like best, free and single: ask for the price of vegetables and wheat, passing through the Circus, where entanglements are assembled, give a tour of the Forum , towards evening, and I stop to listen to the soothsayers. After I go home, before a dish of leeks, fried chickpeas mass ... This is the day of those that are free of distressing ambitions.

This situation, which is the subject of satire, is also the premise of Odes, the cármenes. The lyric art of Horace (and moral) may seem disappointing to be so distant from modern taste. We did not find any daring in his art metaphorically. Bold is not their images, almost never, because the invention stylistic surprises entrusted all to the relationship between syntax and meter. Horace's poetry is an art of brevity, the speech concentrated in perfect rhythm.
twentieth birthday before I read the book by Hugo Friedrich about the "structure of modern poetry." It was a revelation, essentially because it represented the other side (so it seemed) of Camus's books on the rebellion and the absurd. "Fantasy authoritarian", the will of the associations and semantic and syntactic relations was the ruler or the antirregla of modern poetry. After a few years appeared in Italy on '63 Group, which sought to reintroduce the spirit of the avant-garde of the early twentieth century, Futurism, Dada, Surrealist, Pound, Joyce. Now that that attempt neovanguardista already fulfilled its cycle and had their history, we wonder to what extent the Italian poetry of the twentieth century could be truly modernized.



[...] Thus, the best of twentieth century Italian poetry is perhaps in the recovery or persistence of old forms, verse cantabile, ironic realism inspired by a true music (Gozzano, Saba). Even the best of Italian hermetic poets, the most "gothic" and vertical, has finally been found with Horacio, distancing that share of symbolism and surrealism (though modest) that existed in the poems of his first books. Speak Mario Luzi, who in 1963, posting Nel magma [in the magma] chose a significant section of Horace: nisi quod pede certo differt sermoni, sermo merus ... [if not find here a certain regularity of the lines, it would simply prose ...]
Perhaps this encounter between the hermetic prose and verse of Horace means something more than the veiled presence of a large inheritance could provide a way to go yet. Translation

Luciana
Zollo

Snick Doodle Apple Salad

Mariano Pérez Carrasco / The Adventure of the order (Apollinaire and the story arc of the avant-garde) Ricardo H.

[Excerpts. Full Text of print]


A time seems to stop being our own yielded a somewhat uncritical worship of novelty. The logic in those societies that lived provided an immediate identity between new and good. In recent decades philosophy has begun to wonder what was particularly intense the basis of that belief disproportionate in "the new", and found that this rationale was twofold: first, was the process of industrialization and the omnipresence of the logic commercial, on the other hand, was Christian eschatology and Messianism. The uncritical acceptance of the novelty and value was founded on these two groups of phenomena.
The evolution of poetry in the historical arc of the front (circa 1920-1970) acquires a new meaning to be framed in this overview of the evolution of Western societies. One can understand the aesthetic avant-garde proposals without understanding the philosophical ideas of the avant-political: both are held in theological presuppositions that allow the opening of an eschatological horizon. The merger of aesthetic and political avant-garde art that has begun to emerge in the thirties explains theological foundation from which they share. [...]



1. The logic of the novelty and drama of the lead


[...]
The sketch I just did the evolution of these two poets [Apollinaire and Aragon] I find it significant for our present, it indicates the possibilities and limits in some ways poetry that originated in the nineteenth century and which today seems arc be completed. This conclusion-this-time final that takes place some decades ago may receive a return of the identical. The last twenty years have seen the last century appear successive figures of the same only slightly disguised.
The prefix 'neo' differential Nuance realizes that wanted to have those late-isms. A double imperative, the evolution of aesthetics of recent decades: first, who started writing at the time of the historical avant inherited the imperative of "unforeseen development", on the other hand, this constraint would force them to produce a break with a past that had managed to impose tradition of rupture. These men had the imperative to continue to be considered cutting edge. His drama was to have a duty to break that to which by tradition belonged. The prefix "neo" aware of this paradoxical situation: a neo-x-ist is to turn someone in the tradition of x-ism but has broken with the traditional x-ism. His break seems to be, most of the time it is a new (neo) x-ist, ie his differentiation of traditional x-ism is its novelty value, understood as mere temporal succession, and sometimes, radicalization of the same gestures, and being a non-traditional. This last is key: the tradition of breaking imposes a duty to be anti-traditional. This imperative is ultimately a conviction, because only the first antitraditionalism is possible to break with tradition, the second, if faithful to the precepts of antitraditionalism, must break with the antitraditionalism they belong to.
The paradox is evident and has attracted the attention of Octavio Paz, with whom I disagree on a key point pertains to the characterization of modernity. According to Paz, the currency would be all over, the deployment of a paradoxical tradition of rupture. In my opinion, if by "modern" we mean the period of the seventeenth century until the First World War, that characterization is inaccurate, since that time has proven to be comparatively more traditional than previous periods, for example, that which is the eleventh century the fourteenth. The split between romantic classics is tiny compared with the true revolution that meant the adoption of vernacular languages \u200b\u200bas literary languages. The range of topics introduced by the realism pales before developing the concept of love in the twelfth century, of which these realistic (Stendhal and Flaubert, for example) are direct heirs.
My characterization of the period does not imply a disregard of modernity. It would only be so if it considers that the novelty has some value in itself, and this is not my opinion. The concept of peace on a tradition of rupture applies perfectly to the period of World War I to the seventies. In those sixty years, the tradition of rupture enjoyed a tremendous vitality, which has gradually lost to our time. Until the seventies was still possible to be new without being, ipso facto ipso eoque, man. Then it would be impossible, and that failure led to those who came after input adopt the prefix 'neo', as the first and often only record to preserve the value of sixty years earlier helped to elevate as a supreme value of novelty. But this could not lead to the overcoming of the paradox in which had fallen by the acceptance of novelty value. Well, once accepted that the highest value is new-that it becomes universal criterion for it in trial-we have a judgmental and constructive failure is not factual but logically, there can not be overcome. Accept the new value as a itself, and therefore, as a criterion of opinion, are stripped of any criterion eo ipso judicative therefore considered novelty value destroys all other values, as the value becomes such only by virtue of being new. Thus, we can not say that a poem is perfect, well built, handsome, since neither the beauty nor the construction or perfection are new values. In any case, look for beauty, perfection, a building still unknown (ie, new), and here it falls into another paradox, because if these values \u200b\u200bare unknown they can not be used as a criterion for trial. Say, for instance, that a poem is beautiful involves an unknown beauty formulate a proposition that destroys itself, for, or what is called beauty, and are in the poem certain traits attributed to the concept of beauty, which preaches the beauty of the poem that does not fall or beyond our knowledge (not known) or outside the concept of beauty (not new) or know what is beauty (often said that the poem is beautiful), but not in the poem any feature corresponding to that concept, thus we are precluded from saying that it is beautiful, and if we mean well and everything is beautiful, but you know the kind of beauty to which they belong (strictly speaking, the species ), we fall back into a paradox, then, In short, our ignorance of the predicate that we want to attribute the object (the beauty) keeps us from being aware of what we are preaching.
In summary, the historical arc of modernism ended when it became impossible to carry out the acts of disruption that characterized the traditional avant-garde, from that time (circa 1970), the novelty was basically the repetition of gestures and previous proposals: in essence, these copies were identical to their models, the awareness of this identity, together with the imperative of development, led to new isms (who knew they were old) are themselves new (neo-x-isms), and seek themselves and its repetitions, usually unsuccessfully, some trait of novelty.
logic just outlined is the core of our culture drama that lives for thirty years. This logic of novelty is not confined to literature but to all spheres of society. The process that led to the development per se was considered not only a value but the highest value, has been neither own nor exclusive of literature and art, by contrast, literature and art imported that value other areas.
The market is an area in which novelty is entitled to the highest value. It is no coincidence that the novelty value has spread to all areas of company at the time when the market came to be constituted as such, ie in the period of the great European empires, which led to commercial disputes War. It is possible, therefore, to assume a causal link between the adoption of an aesthetic of the ephemeral ("culte de l'éphémère" is an expression of Aragon in Le paysan de Paris) with favorite objects are the goods in use, and extension European market and consolidation of global.
If the hypotheses that suggest they are true, seems to conclude that in adopting the innovation as a supreme value and as a criterion for, literature and art loses its autonomy. But this conclusion is inaccurate. The incorrectness of this conclusion lies in the belief that art and literature have ever been self-employment. The autonomy of art is a myth that has inherited the nineteenth century. The art is not a meaning-producing activity, but to reproduce. The artists adopt the values \u200b\u200band concepts of philosophy, religion, science, politics. No great poet (the statement can be extended to artists in general) has seen this as a drama, by contrast, tend to accept this ideology as a given substrate, in a natural way: that without which his work would be unintelligible. In our culture, different Christianities, with its diverse theologies and philosophies, provided a coordinate system to the First War and was broken. The soldiers departing to the front were in their backpacks either the Bible, Homer and Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Karl Löwith has studied this point.) The eschatology of secular religions on the one hand, and on the other hand, market realities arising from the industrialization process that ended with relative unity of Christian Europe, and were gradually supplanted their values. [...]



3. The reality of the photos on my heart I read Caligramas

first clinic in Olivos. Being sick made me a link empathy with that poet whose most famous photos (the edition edited by JI Velazquez Chair brings plenty of photographic material) it had drawn, lying in his hospital bed. I was sixteen and religious fanaticism for almost everything that had anything to do with surrealism. The previous year had won a poetry contest whose prize was the Anthology of surreal poetry Aldo Pellegrini. Until then my models were the Juan Ramon Jimenez summer, Becquer, Rafael Obligado (I liked his poems against progress but Santos Vega), Almafuerte, Miguel Hernandez, the satirist Quevedo, Lope de Vega some (admired and envied his Don Juanism), the sonnets of Garcilaso. Above all, he had been unbeatable the presence of Ruben Dario. All Darius, stories, poems, impressions. In the magazine Caras Symphony in Grey had read more and I immediately sat down to write dodecasyllabic. My teacher was mandatory Oyuela Calixto, a book inherited from my grandfather. Around my fifteenth year, Darius was supplanted by Neruda. Imitated ad nauseam Twenty poems and the slinger enthusiastic. I had great difficulty understanding Heights of Machu Picchu and the man Tentative infinity. These books had a kind of poetry that did not fit anything I had read. Why were these verses verses and not prose?, I wondered. Why Neruda dispensed with the score, often of rhyme, meter, Elidia opening question mark? One thing was certain: Neruda fascinated me. Neruda was solar. Eneasílabo Estravagario taught me. In eneasílabos wrote a poem in which a man abandoned God and fell on his knees, cursing. This poem won that contest. At night, I slept with my prize treasure and tried to read it. Failed. I did not understand anything. Mentally counted the verses, none was measured. I felt complete, fanatically in accordance with the introduction of Pellegrini, I too was against society, reason, progress. He was, above all, against the school. But when he passed the introduction to the poems, could not understand. (The same thing happen to read Rimbaud and Apollinaire in editions of Chair: excellent introductions, unintelligible poems.) Until one day there was light. The remarkable pace made by Pellegrini made me fall in love with miraculous weapons Aimé Césaire and Desnos's poems. I understood what was the prey of these poems.
The fact is that, and turned to surrealism, shortly before falling ill he had wanted to know who was Apollinaire, whom he regarded (by Nadeau) the grandfather of the surrealist movement. And I bought the Chair issue precisely because of its introduction, hoping to understand something. Once again I failed. I was interested in what he said Apollinaire, and especially what Apollinaire Velazquez said he wanted to do, but I could not understand why Apollinaire was considered a great poet. Although recently turned to surrealism, my ears were trained in English poetry (ie, the only poetry which, ignorant of other languages, I could understand), and especially in the music of Rubén Darío, at the foot of tetrasyllabic Asunción Silva. What was wrong with me Apollinaire had happened to all foreign poets. I wanted to read poetry, but, disappointed, ended up reading prose. This was my perception, but the critics, who certainly knew more than I said otherwise. The certainty of the superiority of critics led me to abandon my mind and adopt theirs. I came to the conclusion that modern poetry was what I read in the translations. Just a decade later, when my knowledge of French had evolved enough to allow me to listen to the verses, I understand that my initial perception was correct and that, consequently, all the poetry he had written based on these models was not translated the product of my ignorance. I understood that Velasquez's edition is the best in English Caligramas study, but says nothing of the poetry of Apollinaire, that music is so readily apparent in the original.
Regardless of this first misunderstanding, there was a more important fact, which I think, like the previous one, is both a personal experience as an experience of several generations of Argentines. This is one of the marks of our culture. Apollinaire, the Surrealists, and, fundamentally, critics who commented and imported, had brought forth in me a contempt for those modes poetic subject of my first love. Neruda, Becquer, Hernandez had me excited. His verse had been effective in that boy between thirteen and fifteen years who read them. Suddenly, voices that were considered authoritative''I do''not only that it was all the past (which is partly true), but as the product of a corrupt society, corrupt themselves accordingly, should be destroyed. Breton's powerful voice cried delenda est litterature. And there was also Apollinaire, prophesying the new: the true poet was a wizard, a prophet who explores the depths of consciousness ("I profondeurs of conscience"), to write verses had to abandon all knowledge, open to be ignorant grace ("c'est le temps grâce of ardente"), and that Thus, deify ("l'homme is divinisera / plus pur plus vif et plus savant"). These topics are of Augustinian Patristic. When I deepened my study of medieval philosophy, I realized that the nineteenth-century poets and their heirs do not break with Christianity, but Catholicism rationalizing, political, institutional, and rediscover (Baudelaire is the most prominent of them) are primitive Christianity requires abandon reason, order, the kingdoms of this world, and open as ascetics modern life-giving grace. Leave knowing, leaving science to surrender to grace. It is often forgotten that modernity has not been a time less Christian than the Age Media, but, the Modern is, in most respects, an anti-Catholic period, thereby breaking the end of the Middle Ages is not Christianity, but the unity of the Church. Modern critics of the scholastics who have been seduced by the absurdities of pagan wisdom (especially Aristotle), Descartes, Hobbes, Leibniz wants to build a knowledge that is genuinely Christian, but not necessarily Catholic. Apollinaire is in this line. This Augustinian end (consisting of the devaluation of nature that is sinful, in front of grace: "je me suis enfin detach / toutes choses naturelles / mais je ne peux mourir chest") is a the causes of informality. As in the early Christian hymns, what matters is the song itself, offering to God, and not its form. Devote time to formal work is sinful, because we linked to this world, which must be rejected, it is a sin comparable to that of female cosmetics.
The disproportionate (in the sense of hubris) longing for renewal that comes in a clear way, with Apollinaire and then inherit the vanguard, is on the one hand, direct heir of the Christian concept of baptismal renovatio and, other hand, is motivated by the expansion of market logic brought about by industrialization. Both causes are not contradictory but complementary. These positions aesthetics come into line with the revolutionary political beliefs, they also heirs of the Judeo-Christian millennialism, and, like the early Christians also demanded renovatio, ie natural man's death and the birth of new man. This explains the historical arc of the avant match the historical arc of millenarian revolutions.



[...] Regardless of the sad complaints of school (not normally more than one way to assert himself against the other), what remains, the only important thing is the search for beauty, goodness and truth. Love is the way that search. The challenge for each of us is to find what is the object worthy of love. [...]

Miu Miu Bow Bag Neiman Marcus

Herrera / In the aesthetic consciousness improvisation (return ticket)


[Excerpts. Full Text of print]



A Javier Adúriz because
years
speaks to me with the fervor of the old voice language



not [...] I say that has gone the possibility of poetry, literary genre in which today are recycled whims of successive avant-garde, subcultural, say, rather, that in so complex a crossroads like this, the critical tasks can not suggest poetry aesthetically constructive, much less provide new energy to a medium of expression as battered as the verse. The format of the poem itself has become almost intolerable to the contemporary sensibility, perplexing or aversion, even among their own farmers. For free that is the verse, which is the uninhibited expression, there is always a residue on the page ridiculously anachronistic, perhaps a reflection of the loss counterfeit cohesion of the old form. I suggest because the manner born to be kept in mind, not on the page. In the mind, a poem is rigorous architecture clearer sound the purest silence absolute word, they understand the symbols. The possibility of such experience can not create a verse to use, nor intended, it is true, for now, this new line that favors mutations dizzying notion of poetry, affirming and denying the same time, is doomed to harass the remnants of a fullness that rejected by vocation, but is also barred by definition, since there is nothing free in a living organism. However, it would be suicidal closed to the possibility of the unexpected, improvisation has its resources, and perhaps at some point in the joint occurs spontaneously between this search (Or loss) with previously given material.



[...] Despite the great diversity of poetry at stake, the generic characteristic of Argentina's recent poetry lies in the fact that continuously seeks to be heard in recitals. This suggests that the voice plays a role in it, as if it were possible to listen only to fully capture its shape. I say this because the notions of form and voice have always been closely linked. In fact, the formal instruments of poetry have been the sole purpose of construction of the voice. This really could be called the poetic principle par excellence. Rave who believe that the old formal resources of poetry as accents, caesuras, tunes-just serve for someone to demonstrate his expertise in chess Acrobat or language. In fact, it's instruments to improve the voice modulation, and also do the exact notation of the singularity of voice. Poetry lives only in the voice, even in the silence of the mind is only poetry voice.



[...] In this situation, it is important to understand that the irresolution that dissipate sound in the texts of the new poetry to be recited is not random, but consciously sought. Would have to be deaf not realize that what is sought by all means is to strip on the back of its resonance and musicality. Immediacy does not need resonance, and everything is immediate, it's all lust for life at bay. As Wallace Stevens says in a sad chord lively waltz: "A huge cancellation, release, / Those voices crying without knowing why, / / \u200b\u200bCalling the happiness, not knowing how to achieve it, / Imposing ways that can not define ..." After hearing from the edge of the tradition of the tongue, these voices are silent, have no past, therefore no identity. No one seems to perceive this phenomenon as it really is: a terrible form of neglect. "Of all the needs of the soul human, there is no more vital than before, "Simone Weil writes," the past is destroyed may never recover, "written diagnosis during the Second World War, when tracing a before and after definitive Western art . Today, as the old ways are already in ruins and the new informal format just not find a definition meritorious, a crowd waiting to be summoned to the ritual of recognition of public recital. In these recitals the wig, costume, mime and comedy appeal or shocking it is gaining ground: the performance is the form taken by the consciousness of the strangeness to the corpse of what once was aesthetic awareness of the word.
Apart from isolated poetic personalities who persevere in the search against the expressive transparency in the use of words rooted in language, more poetic tendency to self-organization and Argentina in the literature of the last fifteen years made his public presentation in Monster / Anthology of Poetry Young Argentina, with a foreword by the poet Arturo Carrera and published by the Fondo de Cultura Economica in 2001. Eight years later, in mid 2009, after completion of a purge that leaves out several members of that first group, minimalism-hegemonic trend currently writing returns to the fray with another anthology, in which the word "young" is replaced by the word "new" New Poetry Argentina, this time selection by Gustavo Lopez and published by Perceval Press. The change in the name of the group is not only to poets ceased to be young, but they aspire to be a consistent movement and compact, similar to the New Music, marks the end of the tonal era and objectivist beginning of the era. The New Poetry Argentina has, in fact, these special features: looking both atonality and objectivity.
the target word, also used by Theodor W. Adorno in their approach to new music, referred to in its philosophy to the formal rigor that gives artistic autonomy serial composition (also to the structural cohesion of tonal composition.) New Poetry In Argentina, by contrast, aims to draw more lax "attitude where subjectivity is present due to absence, lying to be read between the lines of text" in the words of Alejandro Rubio, one of the poets anthologized. Just five years after publishing the new philosophy of music-very famous book conceived in the years 1938-1948 - Adorno felt severe symptoms of stagnation in studied the trend, a phenomenon evident in his essay "The aging of New Music," 1954. Something similar happens with the New Poetry Argentina selected by Lopez, she also suffers from premature aging, and the causes are similar in nature to those outlined by the philosopher. I refer to Adorno's text, although text is focused on the problems of New Music, perfectly describes the situation and the tendency of poetic neovanguardias from mid-twentieth century to today:
"We played extremely paradoxical theme, namely, the disappearance of the tradition of the new music itself. The innovative [...] grew all within traditional music. Their language, their criticism, resistance, crystallized it. The followers do not already have within themselves as a living thing, and instead become a musical ideal in itself critical in some false positive, no evidence of spontaneity and rigorous effort that this requires. [...] In this disorder is a virtue in a universal language and vulgar, which ranks first cuasiliterarios effects, especially irony just as baseless as cheap. Pseudo-intellectualism and political-cultural expertise moving the artistic. The music takes the 'pose' of a tradition that has ceased to be substantial and this is not technically and has no advantage over products made by engineers serial. All that happens is that this music seeks its own comfort and their supporters. "
To test this diagnosis is imposed if only to cite a text of the New Poetry Argentina. I choose one without title, Alejandro Rubio:

of offal of onions, the passage of men to women. The empty bowl
flowered china you deposited on the board.
Empty. Fill. With eggs, seeds, with eyes,
shit. It is the result of our drudgery. Is the key
of our ideas, such or contained or forgotten. The
mixed truth abounds on the fifth to two kilometers from the nearest road
. Along

end point of this short prose, appears gray leaf decorative: a quirk of the diagram of the edition which has no connection with either the subject or the style of the text boasts, which generates an unexpected " Mixed truth "similar to that described by Rubin in his writing. The same inconsistency is repeated in each page of the book: the old gold color of the names of the authors alternating with grayish leaves near the end of the poems. Alejandro Rubio is a writer emblematic of his generation, by its keenness for his acid criticism, it seems does not seem willing to make concessions, but the fact is that it has turned a blind eye when entering the pages of a sort of coffee-table book: a container embroidery similar to the "empty bowl of flowered china" lied in his prose, he also filled indigestible heterogeneous elements.
This "mixed truth" dirty realism in a printed book as a missal-itself that can legitimately be described as new. In his brief foreword (half page) Lopez did not deal with this striking novelty, the new, in its discretion, is linked to the mass production of texts, a phenomenon that lets you advertise with optimism that we have a literary revolution of an "unprecedented vitality." However, the consequences generated by the impact of rapid population growth in poetry have not been evaluated critically. The proof lies in the fact that to account for the amazing abundance has chosen a vehicle archaic origin: An Anthology, an anthology restricted to a minimum of authors and poems. This is not only contradictory, but it highlights the fact that we are facing a simple political strategy literature: it is a gesture of goodwill towards the demos, but with the sole purpose of incorporating it as a password in the pass of the correction policy. Precisely for this reason, the prologue of Lopez is diametrically opposed to any kind of aesthetic consciousness. However, it would be inaccurate to use the word improvisation to define the poise that is hidden behind his frugality guess argument. The anthologist does not justify any of your choices, assume that no one will argue. And indeed, nobody discussed. Improvisation never be able to be obeyed only in a manner so disciplined.
To mitigate the weight of these conclusions, to verify that there has been renewed alternative poetry in such difficult circumstances as ours, even darker than our country has experienced (for if anyone thinks that this is the cause that explains our situation poetic), is well to recall what he said Oreste Macri in the final lines of the preliminary study to his edition of the poetry of Fray Luis de Leon: "a year ago that [Fray Luis ] was released from prison, fully formed and hardened in theology and poetry, when John entered in the Toledo jail for there horrible writing, memory, their lyres and romances, and also the poet in prison, it is strange habit Hispanic ... "As demonstrated by the experience of those two men as diverse exceptional scholar-poet and poet-inspired great poetry is born when the word, taken away by the wonder of a world reborn in the ear, does temper the spirit in adversity, not when it neglects the arts and unleash their frustrations and revenge, whatever their origin .

Kmbd Bus Stand, Chennai

Alejandro Nicotra / The task to be accomplished




Tear of the Virgin

Tear-of-the-Virgin
everything and nothing is true
but I bear in my hand, from your cheek from the day
-spectral and garden-flower water

and tender blue sun.



March Point

secret window unreal


the gap opened by the blade to detach from the tree-


and vertigo clear.



Trino
September
snow still on the top
and grain and flower.
hear the trill:

which enshrines in your ear, how illusory
a tendril, aria
resurrection.





Said ditch And so it still comes
-myth of childhood, from its mounts,
to find a place in another realm:
with trill and mint through
la aridez,
discurriendo por las sílabas claras,
venturosas.



Así es

Todo lo que ha escrito la noche
―astros, espectros―
lo borra el alba:
así establece una página abierta
a tu verdad.
Sin ayer ni futuro
soy su lector
y recito a media voz esta luz,
esta sombra instantánea.



Esquela

Quisiera hacer de este día
un objeto, puntual ―tal como un cántaro
o una lámpara:
el poema
que aparente ser sólo superficie
―pero que
store yet (what for what time you?)
flame, fresh water.



The task to be accomplished

she has traveled
Paul Anadón

And now,
educate
letter in the habit of two things: the sky

birds that cross the West;
leaf that sways on the sidewalk;
the window of the bar, and a time translucent;
the avenue that runs to an empty square, the window
not sleep at night
the city without your foot.



Southern Air

As an air that came from the South and it's time

to light in the wilderness of the stove


another winter fire, and then throw the bundle of poems
extinct:
to wait for you so
only called in when naked,
Virgen-del-Cold.



Before the storm

The storm, which advances

and has covered South
angle:
but trees,
her younger sisters garden,
pots with water, do not move
not even a leaf, a wave:

I treat that stillness, as a matter of personal
.



Córdoba

A Rodolfo Godinez

is true: once again has opened the day.
And there are, is a gift, the pleasant blue
summit
beloved city. Córdoba


-that stammers, again, on their morning
the poem as possible.

Rules Of Frustration Rummy

Ingeborg Bachmann: Talk from the silence / Note preliminary versions of Irene M. Alicia Weiss


Text summarized. The full article is available in the print edition. [...]



explained here is an introduction to the texts that follow. The first is an autobiographical page written by Bachmann at age 26, in which they appear in nuce the issues I just play, including the size historical, present in the last sentence. The poems translated versions of different cycles of his work in taking a few keys to his poetic topographies. The selection of pieces from "Songs in Flight" allows access to the way poetry Bachmann opens dialogue with tradition: the first poems reconverted to a single melody ice-fire opposition, distinctive poetry of Petrarch, the VII is a new approach to the epiphanic under the body, the latter returns to modulate the relationship between time, death and singing. Translate
always choose, especially in the case of Bachmann, who plays with different levels of language, with phrases resemantizing proverbial to which, with the various senses which contains a word or expression. By choosing, the translator often leaves illuminate one of the faces of the word, which is in shadow or obscured part of the original. But something remains, including some of the light lost by reflection or brightness passenger who nonetheless carries the text in the new language.



Ingeborg Bachman: Biographical Notes (1952) I spent my youth

in Carinthia in the south near the border in a valley that has two names, one German and one Slovenian. The house, which for years lived my ancestors - Austrian and Slovenian - today has a foreign sounding name. So close to the border is a frontier: the frontier of language. And I felt at home on either side, with stories of good and evil spirits of two and three countries, because behind the mountain, an hour away, is now Italy.
I think the narrowness of the valley and the conscience of the border printed in me nostalgia. When the war ended, I went and got full of impatience and expectation to Vienna, I imagined unattainable. Vienna became another country on a border between East and West, between a glorious past and a dark future. And although I later came to Paris and London, Germany and Italy, this means little, because in my memory the way from the valley to Vienna is always the longest.
Sometimes I wonder how I came to literature, having been raised in the countryside. I do not say exactly, just know that I started writing at an age at which children read the stories of Grimm, which I liked estarme along the embankment of the road letting my thoughts wander through cities and foreign countries unknown to the sea , which binds somewhere in the earth with the celestial sphere. Always dreamed of sea, sand and boats, but after the war came, and pushed in front of this fantastic world of dreams the real, which decisions are not dreaming. Later
happened much that one hardly dares to be desired: academic study, travel, collaboration in magazines and newspapers, and later the permanent job in radio. Current seasons of a life, interchangeable and can be attributed to a person or another, but life itself does not take his base in mediable or mediated.
remains the question of influences and models, by the literary climate that you feel you belong. For some years I read a lot, from among the new ones I liked were perhaps Gide, Valéry, Eluard and Yeats, and might have learned something from them. But deep down I still dominant in the rich world mythical representations of my country, part of Austria that just came true, a world where many languages \u200b\u200bare spoken and where are many borders. Writing poetry
I think the hardest thing, because it requires simultaneously solving the problems of the formal, theme and vocabulary, because it must obey the rhythm of the time but nevertheless put in the abundance of things old and new order to follow our heart, where is written the past, present and future.


versions
From: The time delayed (gestundete Die Zeit) (1953) The high burden



summer load and stowed, the boat's
sun early in the port, when your back
seagull cries.
summer load and stowed.

The early sun boat in the harbor, and lips
figurehead of the smile of lemur
not sail.
The early sun boat in the harbor.

When your back screaming gulls,
from the west sorted sinking;
you drown in the light with your eyes open when your back
seagull cries.

(Die große Fracht / / Die große verladen Fracht des Sommers ist, / das im Hafen liegt bereit Sonnenschiff, / wenn hinter dir und die Möwe stürzt Schreiter. / Die große verladen Fracht des Sommers ist. / / Das Sonnenschiff im Hafen liegt bereit, / und auf die Lippen der Galionsfiguren / tritt das unverhüllt Lemuren. Lächeln der Das im Hafen liegt bereit Sonnenschiff. / / Wenn hinter dir und die Möwe stürzt Schreiter / kommt aus dem Westen der Befehl zu sinker; / Augsburg öffnen doch wirst du im Licht ertrinken, / wenn hinter dir und die Möwe stürzt Schreiter.)

From: Poems 1957-1961 (Gedichte 1957-1961) Current


lived so long and so close to death that nobody
so I can share,
today I boot my part of the land;

sea will calm green
stuck my stake in the heart by me.

tin birds are rising up and smell of cinnamon!
Con mi tiempo estoy a solas asesino.
Nos tornamos crisálida en embriaguez y azules.

(flow / / So far in life and so close to death, / that I can with anyone about right, / I'll tear me from the ground my part, / / \u200b\u200bthe quiet ocean I shock the green wedge / right to the heart and Schwemm it myself. / / Zinnvögel rising and cinnamon odor! / With my time I'm murderer allein. / In noise and blue one we doll ourselves.)

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Genovese / The lingering smell of the olea fragrans (Emma Barrandeguy Criticism, Complete Poems)



Aparición La obra de la poética Emma amplia y completa de Barrandéguy el perfil de una escritora, prácticamente hasta poco antes de que Desconocida one could read his stunning novel Rooms in 2002, when journalist and author Maria Moreno possible publication. That bit of prose fiction and some rehearsal, mixed gender-related forms such as confessional memoirs, diaries, letters, but also included novel construction touches on a story basically autobiographical, installed a striking narrative perspective. Provided a sharp contrast with what was supposed, a writer could write in the 50's, in Argentina, because those years correspond writing and editing rooms came with a delay of almost half a century. Pages incredible in a calm tone and sensitive, with a natural boldness for the speech, printed in a political and sexual transgression that had remained in the blank, empty space of the unreadable for long. The careful editing of his poetry, by Irene Weiss, now installed a poetry that has been absent from the literary (in which a read out of time might make the mistakes of displeasure) and has a very extensive tour more than sixty years, with a time of maturity and poetic achievement finished samples. [...]



In his first books, the mere mention of some of its titles "Lenin", "Life of a pawn" "First of May" and the frequent appeal to his "comrades" in the poem, make clear the issue and the political role assigned to poetry then. Corroborating his membership. Do not forget who was with Raúl González Tuñón, whom he admired, the Association of Intellectuals, Artists, Journalists and Writers (IAA) in support of the Republicans during the English Civil War. She says of that time "vaguely understood that these poems did not reach the people approached him or me" (Room 37). However, there are moments in the early poems show the best diving binder which is capable of describing in poetic discourse when well or especially a search for poetic construction, a script. In refrigerators, for example, written in prose says

is a day of slaughter, have led me to look at the refrigerator. Cold rooms, odors and workers [...] The cement floor is a single pool of blood, water, waste where my boots slip rubber. [...]
and move cattle. And
intense rationalization (58)

This description is no longer a mere object of observation and, in these last sentences, is released to the tension of poetic perception.
In his second book published: The doors, 1964 (take into account the time shift of almost thirty years since his first book), shows a notorious area where the theme of love makes you more clearly in relation to the poetry of Alfonsina Storni. Even one of his poems is entitled "Song from the Alfonsina way." Is constant, this book loving partner's presence as part of the rhetoric of love poem. "How useless to night next your heart that I looked" (81) says in a beautiful lament. But in other texts continues to project an ideal of equal partners, with mutual respect for the other's desire for "the way of love":

I will give you the ring that unites us
if I can not follow [...]
And if you touch me before
shoulder to tell me what you'll give me your memory
in his hands and he entibiaré
fingers (87 )

In the same book begins to outline an area that will reappear in other poems. It is an area related to the occupation of social space by a woman where the idea of \u200b\u200border and chaos appear frequently in a complex called coexistence. Their opposition creates a semantic core connected with elections expected for women in the conventional life that he has reserved time.


[...]
Within the area where socially defy convention provided for a woman could be given other poems that add ideas, in turn precursors. In the poem "Women's Position" dated 1937, located lucidly poetic voice of a woman's position compared to writing:

independence be assured that
do [men would
joy.
I can not make from this castellated heart of centuries.
[...]
[talk] and nothing is false, or hard, or wild, but only natural
(245)

In the 70 Anglo-Saxon feminist literary criticism, the that The Madwoman in The Attic was a reference, addressed precisely this hindrance to write about a writer who works from the social imaginary. Its authors Gilbert and Gubb, which specifically referred to the writers of the nineteenth century, said that the men took the pen and built the literature read in a male succession in a natural way. A woman in the writing itself perceived change from the social alienation of his confinement, must overcome nature culture reserved for them. In this sense of symbolic rebellion can read a poem by EB that is questioning this tradition passed down from mother to daughter, transmitting and perpetuating a strong moral for women. Says
Defeat

mothers who created our molds close. Defeat all limits

and prepare wild joy (335) [...]



His age is listed as a point of arrival in the transit of deterritorialization, which is proof, at the same time attempt reverse, this impeccable edition of his complete poems, mostly unpublished, arranged and prefaced by the specialist Irene Weiss. In Emma Barrandeguy customize the rootless in a provincial town in which "seems to go away / from the lifeline of the streetcars" or where "even eucalyptus trees in the parks seem to already known and humiliated "(247-248). It is also a body deterritorialized and difficult to read in their sexual freedom, at least for most of the time he touches travel. But it is especially rootless writer of a social identity, which comes with the complete works virtually unknown. It is almost impossible to reinstall this work without taking into account the symbolic and political values \u200b\u200beven silently should have acted against him.
But ultimately, comes a landscape poetry and perfumes, and build courage to say things it names, and that is to be celebrated, never a wrong time, comes with an old flavor but fierce and persistent may well smell the olea fragrans of provincial court, a flower is not very common in modern gardens.