La muchacha de los ojos tristes. Mariana Romo-Carmona

      Introduction

      Quite often, the structure and meaning of a collection of poetry only becomes evident for the poet as she writes the very last line of the last poem in the book. But it also seems unthinkable that the idea had not always been there, keeping vigil as she writes and revises, so tightly connected does each piece seem at the end of the long, solitary process.

      So it is with this particular collection by Noemí Trujillo Giacomelli, a young poet from Barcelona, for whom this book is the third and most awaited to date. La muchacha de los ojos tristes: The Girl with Sadness in her Eyes, seems to be a poetic staircase of images and themes provided by a long line of poets, leading to the author’s own words. Beginning with the epigraph from Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven,” which introduces the lovely prologue by the poet, Santiago Tena, every idea is a step for Noemí Trujillo’s poem to jump onto the next. The structure is sheer inspiration, one that helps to keep the words in motion and alive each time a reader opens the book.

      With Emily Dickinson’s famous lines, “One need not be a Chamber— to be haunted” the mood is established for this poem where the speaker paints a portrait of herself in Dickinson’s image. This image, that of a girl “with sadness in her eyes” is invented, suggested by Dickinson’s own image of herself as a haunted chamber, and therefore free to continue to evolve in Noemí Trujillo’s poem. As the poems follow, each epigraph becomes a tribute to the poet as well as another step to create the first line of the poem that follows. With this brilliant structure, Noemí Trujillo evokes mood, tone, and imagery from the work of poets before her time, such as Storni, Plath, and Pizarnik, to accompany her creations which echo the poets of her own generation— Yolanda Sáenz de Tejada, Eva Márquez, Ismael Pérez, and younger writers, such as Silvia Oviedo, from whose lines about courage and guts, Trujillo steps off to the last poem.

      Noemí Trujillo writes in free verse with a rhythm that seems natural, and flows following the pull of her emotions. In a poem aptly paying homage to Ann Sexton, “Un avión subterráneo” (An Underground Plane), the truncated lines hit a marked, violent cadence as the poet’s body is wounded from within. One reads confidently through these poems, open to images and motion precisely because the meter seems uncomplicated. Using Sharon Olds’ line, “Stop talking about conflict,” this poet does not enlist Olds’ famous line breaks to write “Intento ser mejor persona” (I Try to Be A Better Person), instead she hammers out the words, one truth at a time. There are few obvious rhyme patterns, enjambements or other devices to either define or restrain the lines. Rather, Trujillo uses the breakdown of words within a line to give power to her meanings:

      I need to take a breather

       change jobs,

       write less,

       buy a gun,

      …

      By the time the speaker reaches the painful plea of her erotic rendering, we have witnessed the diminution of desire in the lines, change jobs,/write less, but also accepted the rapid shift in intensity: buy a gun,/ so that when the poem ends there is no resistance from the reader. We are open.

      Another instantce of that breaking down effect is in “Tengo la sangre rara” (I Carry a Strange Blood), where Trujillo utilizes a one-word line— “y/” (and/) to slow down the progression of the poem as if suggesting the threat of the dangerous blood clot inexorably approaching:

      Now I am full of

       radioactive residue

       and,

       nevertheless,

      Again, in “Hay tardes” (Evenings), the breakdown of lines to just one word shows the poet’s ability to control both meter and impact, as in, “There are nights when silence/cuts/like a wire/while I write…” The single word makes the image of a wire that “cuts,” indelible.

      It is the unexpected power in these seemingly gentle poems, the almost caressing language that is wielded so expertly, and the open position of the speaker beside her subject that makes them unique and valuable in contemporary literature. As translator in this project, my work is about transporting the artistry all-in-one piece, from one language to the other: Art cannot be faked. Readers in English of the work that this poet has dreamed up in Spanish, will be able to receive it whole, because of its solidity. Part of my work is to wander through the naked planks of language to discover what will emerge on the other side. It must be honest work; even though translation can never be exact, and therein, perhaps, lies the sadness along with the joy. Yet, look at how well Emily Dickinson’s words have accompanied us since the 19th century and through the crossing of the Atlantic from Amherst to Barcelona, and then back again, to New York City.

      Noemí Trujillo chooses the voice of a woman in love, or, a poet who writes because she must, but while the reader encounters the universality of a soul in pain, the voice is not tame. The voice is not defeated. The voice knows her power and exacts her vengeance when she must. This voice, ultimately, reflects facets of women’s lives, of power gained and lost, of eroticism unbound and creativity released. At least, for today, for this book. For a poet, the success of her craft lasts only long enough for it to change and evolve, if she is willing. And I believe she will.

      Mariana Romo-Carmona

      New York City, February, 2011

      Introducción A menudo la estructura y el significado de un poemario sólo se hace evidente a medida que la poeta escribe las últimas líneas del último poema del libro. Pero también parece incomprensible que la idea no haya estado siempre allí, velando mientras ella escribe y revisa, por la perfecta relación que existe entre cada pieza al llegar al fin de un proceso largo y solitario. Así es con esta colección en particular, de Noemí Trujillo Giacomelli, una joven poeta de Barcelona para quien este tercer libro parece ser el más ansiosamente esperado hasta ahora. La muchacha de los ojos tristes: The Girl with Sadness in her Eyes, da la impresión de ser una escalera poética de imágenes y temas prestados por una larga tradición de poetas, que nos llevan a las palabras de la poeta misma. Comenzando con el epígrafe de Led Zeppelin que introduce el hermoso prólogo del poeta, Santiago Tena, cada idea es un peldaño desde el cual los poemas de Noemí Trujillo saltan al siguiente. La estructura es pura inspiración, una que mantiene las palabras en movimiento y las hace renacer, cada vez que un lector abre el libro. Con las famosas palabras de Emily Dickinson, “No hay que ser una casa— para tener Fantasmas—” el ambiente se establece con este poema cuando la poeta se retrata en la imagen de Dickinson. Esta imagen, la de una “muchacha de los ojos tristes”, es inventada, sugerida por la propia imagen de Dickinson como una habitación encantada por fantasmas, y por lo tanto libre para evolucionar en el poema de Noemí Trujillo. A medida que continúan, los epígrafes se revelan no sólo como homenajes sino como pasos en la creación de los poemas siguientes.

Скачать книгу