Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Here’s a snippet from the Mouré translation of Andrés Ajens, as described in the previous post.
iv. rough trial (auto).
The automobile bile, one wheel off-keel, the
moirai to the left, atrop-ical behind,
as for those other two, so eternally unerring,
with bits of one, child of a flirt whose permit's suspended,
(m)aimed toward home, the
co-reign of herbicides fervently afar, with
magdalene at a slight advantage, with
all three above, Orion
wheel, waning, lady luck's draw,
arisaromalvamberish blood, roughed bloom.
That day she looked up into the Milky Way and skidded off the road.
What I love about this is the sense of language, like the bicycle wheel, spinning, in motion. Meaning random and not random simultaneously. Everything succinct, and yet, spin the wheel. What you think is merely under foot drifts up, very actively, to your nose. The world is not neutral. Nor is the translator. She enters the poem, albeit under the line, but she does enter.
I’m not sure how literal the translation is, but what I notice is how well Mouré chooses her projects. How well they fit…
at 11:03 AM