One of Mine and One of Theirs
Day One
Panic in Iambic Pentameter
I'll try to make some sense of the words
that you are saying but they do not seem
to mesh with thoughts that are now spinning, that
are twisting in my head; I'm not sure I
can listen to thos sounds anymore.
I'm certain that you don't quite understand
the panic that is twisting, compressing
my chest, the hurt that now is threatening
what little of my sanity remains.
I don't think that you quite get the effect
your words are having on my breathing as
it tightens, or my mind as it begins
to darken and to twist and misery takes hold;
I know that you can't hear me as my
words
begin to muddle and I fall and trip
on concepts until all that I can know
is that i need assurance and to feel
your love around me, to know I'm not
abandoned that your anger isn't fin-
al that I'm not left all alone in this cold and nasty world
and
all you can hear is screaming, the hateful words
that pain brings and all you do is return
the hate in kind. Here I'm left sobbing still,
scared and lost in panic and in pain.
Meditación en el umbral
" No, no es la solución tirarse bajo un tren como la Ana de Tolstoi ni apurar el arsénico de Madame Bovary ni aguardar en los páramos de Ávila la visita del ángel con venablo antes de liarse el manto a la cabeza y comenzar a actuar. Ni concluir las leyes geométricas, contando las vigas de la celda de castigo como lo hizo Sor Juana. No es la solución escribir, mientras llegan las visitas, en la sala de estar de la familia Austen ni encerrarse en el ático de alguna residencia de la Nueva Inglaterra y soñar, con la Biblia de los Dickinson, debajo de una almohada de soltera. Debe haber otro modo que no se llame Safo ni Mesalina ni María Egipciaca ni Magdalena ni Clemencia Isaura. Otro modo de ser humano y libre. Otro modo de ser. "
http://www.epdlp.com/c2.html
Meditation on the Brink
Rosario Castellanos
No, it's not a solution
to throw oneself under a train like Tolstoy's
Anna
or gulp down Madame Bovary's arsenic
or await on the barren heights of Avila the
visit
of an angel with a fiery dart
before binding one's veil back over one's head
and starting to act.
Nor to deduce the geometric laws by counting
the beams of one's solitary confinement cell
like Sor Juana did. It's not a solution
to write, while company arrives,
in the Austen family living room
or to shut oneself in the attic
of some New England house
and dream, with the Dickinson's family Bible
under a spinster pillow.
There much be another way that's not named
Sappho
Or Mesalina or Mary of Egypt
of Magdalene or Clemencia Isaura.
Another way to be human and free.
Another way to be.
Translated by Maureen Ahren,
Longman Anthology of Wolrd Literature by Women
Panic in Iambic Pentameter
I'll try to make some sense of the words
that you are saying but they do not seem
to mesh with thoughts that are now spinning, that
are twisting in my head; I'm not sure I
can listen to thos sounds anymore.
I'm certain that you don't quite understand
the panic that is twisting, compressing
my chest, the hurt that now is threatening
what little of my sanity remains.
I don't think that you quite get the effect
your words are having on my breathing as
it tightens, or my mind as it begins
to darken and to twist and misery takes hold;
I know that you can't hear me as my
words
begin to muddle and I fall and trip
on concepts until all that I can know
is that i need assurance and to feel
your love around me, to know I'm not
abandoned that your anger isn't fin-
al that I'm not left all alone in this cold and nasty world
and
all you can hear is screaming, the hateful words
that pain brings and all you do is return
the hate in kind. Here I'm left sobbing still,
scared and lost in panic and in pain.
Meditación en el umbral
" No, no es la solución tirarse bajo un tren como la Ana de Tolstoi ni apurar el arsénico de Madame Bovary ni aguardar en los páramos de Ávila la visita del ángel con venablo antes de liarse el manto a la cabeza y comenzar a actuar. Ni concluir las leyes geométricas, contando las vigas de la celda de castigo como lo hizo Sor Juana. No es la solución escribir, mientras llegan las visitas, en la sala de estar de la familia Austen ni encerrarse en el ático de alguna residencia de la Nueva Inglaterra y soñar, con la Biblia de los Dickinson, debajo de una almohada de soltera. Debe haber otro modo que no se llame Safo ni Mesalina ni María Egipciaca ni Magdalena ni Clemencia Isaura. Otro modo de ser humano y libre. Otro modo de ser. "
http://www.epdlp.com/c2.html
Meditation on the Brink
Rosario Castellanos
No, it's not a solution
to throw oneself under a train like Tolstoy's
Anna
or gulp down Madame Bovary's arsenic
or await on the barren heights of Avila the
visit
of an angel with a fiery dart
before binding one's veil back over one's head
and starting to act.
Nor to deduce the geometric laws by counting
the beams of one's solitary confinement cell
like Sor Juana did. It's not a solution
to write, while company arrives,
in the Austen family living room
or to shut oneself in the attic
of some New England house
and dream, with the Dickinson's family Bible
under a spinster pillow.
There much be another way that's not named
Sappho
Or Mesalina or Mary of Egypt
of Magdalene or Clemencia Isaura.
Another way to be human and free.
Another way to be.
Translated by Maureen Ahren,
Longman Anthology of Wolrd Literature by Women