Photo credit: Sandrine Landais, 2018
Hello Steemians!
I originally wrote this poem, The Primary House, in Spanish because some of my best child memories come from this country, especially Extremadura where I have family, even though I am French. Here is the original poem and an English translation. I hope you'll enjoy it :)
(ES)
LA CASA PRIMARIA
Estaba en la casa primaria
Y El día de negro pintado
Me levanté como
Un beso en un sueño.
Me parecí oír
Un pájaro enfermo
cuando entendí que
Mis huesos estaban cantando.
Recuerdas? Recuerdas?
La casa primaria?
Y la pena,
La pena tan joven
Que golpeaba tu vientre seco,
Y el caballo senil
Que decía:
Recuerdas?
Olvida primero
La cama de golosinas
Que la memoria
Ha conspirado.
La casa primaria
Es tan pequeña
Que un recuerdo
No puede contenerla
Y El hombre allí
No puede quedarse en pie.
Pero allí, allí!
Tus suspiros te rompían los pulmones
Y la risa de tu sangre,
Cuendo corría en tus dedos,
Cubría el Pensamiento
Y El sexo, pequeño como la casa,
Se parecía a un pajarillo somnoliento.
Creíste morir cuendo El sol te tocó
Y te enamorabas de
Una piedra y de un pelo
Y de una palabra y de
La espuma que todavía te eludía.
Te reías de las sombras
Quienes se encogían sobre los ataúdes.
Sentías la muerte
Cada vez que espirabas.
La muerte era una corona
Y su metal helado
Hacía la vida
Más fuerte.
Ahora, recuerdas?
La casa PRIMERA
te llama como antes.
Y tu vientre seco
No puede olvidar
La comida celestial
De la casa primaria.
SCRIBE
(EN)
THE PRIMARY HOUSE
I was inside the Primary House
And a black-painted day
Woke me up
Like a peck in a dream.
I thought I heard
An ill bird
But soon realized
That my eggs were singing.
Remember? Remember?
The Primary House?
And the pain,
Such a new pain,
Pummeling your lean belly,
And the senile horse
who used to say:
Remember?
First, you shall forget
The bed of sour candies,
Which your memory conspired.
The Primary House
Is such a small house,
It will not be contained
Within a memory.
And there, The Man
Is unable
To get up on his feet.
But over there!
A single sigh would shatter your lungs
And when your blood used to giggle,
running through your fingers,
It could drown an idea out,
And the penis, as small as the house,
resembled a drowsy nestling bird.
You thought you would die
When the sun touched you,
And you fell in love with
A rock and a strand of hair,
And a word and the foam
Which would dodge you each time.
You would laugh at the shadows
melting away on the coffins.
You could feel Death
In every exhalation,
Death was a crown
And its icy metal
Made life stronger.
Now, remember?
The PRIMAL House
Is calling you as before,
And your lean belly
Tries in vain to forget
The celestial food
of the Primary House.
SCRIBE
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The tone is nightmarish, like awaking from a bad dream, but the subject matter speaks to me of childbirth and a new life entering the world. This poem is very conflicted - but in a good way! I think the first three stanzas especially are excellent, with a wry and absurdist sense of humour which makes the whole thing very engaging. A pleasure to read.
Thank you Lazarus, your analyze is excellent and very thorough!! The Primary House depicts childhood as a place of intensity and novelty, from which poetry rises. I believe in poetic violence, as nothing is raw like beauty and you spotted out nicely my taste for surrealism and absurd humor. It is always a bit tricky to translate a poem. "Traduttore, traditore" like the italians say. So I'm very glad you've enjoyed the English version :)