By Elisa Mastromatteo, translated by Orlando Menes. Photography by Diego Vidart.
As Simple as That
One must simply
let it
come out, one must let it
it wants to come out, and it goes forth
forges new energies
comes out, breathes
rummages through objects, removes lint
it looks and points, makes drawings
leaps a bit
and later gets lost.
Or it comes back
to once again
be transformed.
Tan simple como eso
Hay que dejar
que salga
simplemente, hay que dejarlo
quiere salir y va
fora energías nuevas
sale, respira
revuelve objetos, quita pelusas
mira y señala, hace dibujos
salta un rato
después se pierde.
O regresa
para nuevamente
ser transformado.
Oblivion
I did not want to interest myself in the noise
that I felt
that I perhaps never felt
one more noise, a bump.
To get close once more to that cassette
with the perfume brand
and smell that past summarized
in the deformed brand
of that plastic.
To let matters proceed like this
as if another dimension
enveloped me from inside out
and that noise ceases to be
never was
more than a dark thought
that I already forgot.
Olvido
No quise interesarme por el ruido
que sentí
que tal vez ni siquiera sentí
un ruido más, un golpe.
Acercar una vez más aquel cassete con la marca
del perfume
y oler aquel pasado ahí resumido
en esa marca deforme
en aquel plástico.
Dejar que las cosas transcurran así
como si otra dimensión
me envolviese desde dentro hacia fuera
y aquel ruido ya no sea
nunca sea
más que un oscuro pensamiento
que ya olvidé.
Space
These solid walls
are there, protecting you . . .
They will always be there.
Covering that emptiness that makes you
so unreachable.
It is a marvelous emptiness.
It is an imperturbable emptiness.
Nevertheless
I wish
that one day the wind would,
feeling no guilt,
drag your clothes
that one day the sun evaporate
your hypnotic perfume,
that the rain, the storm, chaos
would shatter windows
that the shards pierce your skin.
I want it because that way
I would finally see you.
You would be a little
more real,
you would be a little
more part of me.
Espacio
Esas sólidas paredes
ahí están, te protegen…
Ahí van a estar siempre.
Cubriendo ese vacío que te hace
tan inalcanzable.
Es un vacío maravilloso.
Es un vacío imperturbable.
Aún así
yo quisiera
que un día el viento sin lástima
arrastrara tus ropas
que un día el sol evaporara
tu hipnotizante perfume,
que la lluvia, la tormenta, el caos
te partieran los vidrios
se te hincaran en la piel los pedazos.
Yo quisiera, porque así
podría verte por fin.
Serías un poqutio
más real,
serías un poquito más
de mí.
Dream
So shocking like that moment
when my hands
searched indiscreetly
blind, yes,
but convinced
they touched yours, halting
your soft
everyday
movement,
feeling and saying
joining chasms
wise are hands
when I desperately
need you.
To wake up and find myself
in this Here.
To concentrate on any force
that force. Where?
May it take me back
may it carry me
may it shake me
but how?
Feeling as never before
this cold slap.
To feel like running, shouting
but nothing.
Only immense
time
keeping me farther away.
Sueño
Tan estremecedor como aquel momento
en que mis manos
buscando, indiscretas,
ciegas, sí
pero convencidas
tocan las tuyas, deteniendo
tu suave
cotidiano
movimiento
sintiendo y diciendo
uniendo abismos
sabias, las manos
cuán desesperadamente
yo
te necesito.
Despertar y encontrarme
en este Aquí.
Concentrarme en alguna fuerza
aquella fuerza, ¿dónde?
Que me haga regresar
que transporte
que sacuda
pero ¿cómo?
sintiendo más que nunca
esta fría bofetada.
Sentir correr gritar
pero nada.
Sólo el tiempo
inmenso
alejándome aún más.
Game
Almost always, or indeed always,
his surrender was absolute.
A body and its space,
both whirling, making, coming out.
The hands pressing against
the lukewarm silence.
The air penetrating itself,
the silhouette.
Simple and at the same time complex,
your manner
of murmuring by shuddering
of whistling by shaking
of flying by alternating
elbows and feet.
And almost always, or indeed always,
your eyes being life itself,
your soul so present.
Juego
Y casi siempre, o siempre
la entrega era total.
Un cuerpo y su espacio,
ambos
girando, haciendo, saliendo.
Las maos apremiando el tibio silencio.
El aire internándose,
la silueta.
Simple y a la vez compleja
tu manera
de murmurar estremeciendo
de silbar meneando
de volar alternando
codos y pies.
Y casi siempre, o siempre
tus ojos siendo vida
tu alma tan presente.
That
It is true.
It may be
a continuous illusion, an infinite beginning
an internal journey to discover
new things
stones once invisible
fire behind the stones
tremors falls pains
and recently behind
behind all of this
warmth and equilibrium, happiness.
But it is true.
It is true, and it exists.
Perhaps by accident, but why does it matter.
It is ours,
and that is it.
Eso
Es verdad.
Puede que sea
una ilusión continua un infinito comienzo
un recorrido interno descubriendo
cosas nuevas
piedras antes invisibles
fuego detrás de las piedras
temblores caídas dolores
y detrás
recién detrás de todo eso
tibieza y equilibrio, felicidad.
Pero es verdad.
Es verdad y existe.
Y tal vez por accidente, qué importa.
Es nuestro
y es ya.
Elisa Mastromatteo was born in Montevideo, Uruguay in 1988. She is the author of *Tan simple como eso*. She is currently a student of psychology at the Universidad de la República in Montevideo. Five of her poems are included in *América invertida: an anthology of younger Uruguayan poets* which is forthcoming from the University of New Mexico Press.
Orlando Ricardo Menes is the author of four poetry collections including *Fetish*. His translations include *My Heart Flooded with Water: Selected Poems by Alfonsina Storni*. He teaches in the Creative Writing Program at the University of Notre Dame and is the poetry editor of the Notre Dame Review.