Clade Song 13

Aguas

Medusas en el Mediterráneo que me aterran de lejos. Igual me inmoviliza el
grupo caminante hacia el sol rojo de la tarde. Revendedores de juguetes,
cazadores de rayos, pescadores sin costas. Densidad en el aire y en el agua
de las reservas. Densidad en tus ojos, tu lengua, en tus manos de atar cosas,
de martillar, de techar para el viento constante. Sangre caliente en un
cuerpo hecho para el trabajo, cuerpo amanecido en el olor a nervadura de la
hoja mayor. La hoja duradera de año en año. No conoce mi olor, yo la
presiento, repito que el verde es un color de pobres, y me presiente el perro
cuando llego, no conoce mi horror pero lo huele.

Siete boquetes a la lumbre del agua. Siete dedos porque otros se
desprendieron antes. Siete boquetes a la lumbre del agua. Un vuelo alto y
prolongado sobre la sangre universal, el agua. Mares cerrados e interiores.
Bracear sin dedos y sin habla, dureza extrema de la noche, presencia
agotadora del día de verano, palangre sin carnada recibiendo la parte virgen
de los márgenes. Temporada de cuerpos adaptados a la dureza extrema,
temporada libre, estación infinita de la sangre.

Waters

Jellyfish in the Mediterranean terrify me from afar. Likewise, the group
walking toward the red afternoon sun immobilizes me. Secondhand toy
vendors, lightning bolt hunters, landlocked fishermen. Density in the air and
in the reservoirs. Density in your eyes, your tongue, your hands tying things,
hammering, making a roof against the constant wind. Warm blood in a body
made for work, body woken with the essence of a leaf's central vein. A leaf
lasting from year to year. I sense it doesn't know my scent, I say again that
green is a color of the poor. The dog senses it when I arrive. He doesn't know
my horror, but he smells it.

Seven black holes in the water's glare. Seven fingers because the others let
go sooner. Seven holes in the water's glare. A high and prolonged flight over
the universal blood: water. Closed inland seas. Bracing without fingers or
speech, extreme harshness of night, exhausting presence of summer's day,
fishing line with no bait receiving the virgin part of the borders. Season of
bodies adapted to extreme harshness, free season, infinite season of blood.

tr. by John Johnson and Jabez Churchill

Irela Casañas Hijuelos, born in Santiago de Cuba, graduated in Sociology from the Universidad de Oriente. In 2011 she received a Master in History and Culture in Cuba from the University of Holguín "Oscar Lucero Moya," and
later graduated from the narrative techniques workshop convened by the "Onelio Jorge Cardoso" Literary Training Center. Her collection of poems, Manual del triunfo, was published in 2006. In 2011 Ediciones La Luz published her essay, Testimonio del margen, and her poetry collection, La enfermedad del bronce, in 2015. Her critical essay, Sociología y literatura: dos caminos para conocer la irreverencia, was published by Black Diamond Editions in 2013. Irela is a member of la Asociación Hermanos Saíz, a non-governmental association of young Cuban artists and writers.

Jabez “Bill” Churchill lives in Ukiah, California, where he was the city’s first bilingual Poet Laureate. He is a modern language instructor at Woodland Community College in Clearlake, and teaches poetry at Mendocino County Juvenile Hall through California Poets in the Schools. He began submitting poetry for publication in 1979, and became a member of the Ina Coolbrith Poetry Circle in Berkeley, California. He has toured with other poets in Spain (1999) and Cuba (2000), and been a featured reader throughout the San Francisco Bay Area, in Los Angeles and Vancouver B.C. He continues to write and perform in English and Spanish.

John Johnson’s poems have appeared in many print and online journals. He is co-translator, with Terry Ehret and Nancy J. Morales, of Plagios/Plagiarisms, the poetry of Ulalume González de León, winner of the 2021 Northern California Book Award for poetry in translation.