Immortalia deadly sermon notantes ( ” Ah, that memory would be vain / If there were no poems to love him ” – Silvina Ocampo / Translated from the French of Athanase Vantchev de Thracyby Norton Hodges

Silvina Ocampo

 

Immortalia deadly sermon notantes

” Ah, that memory would be vain
If there were no poems to love him ”

Silvina Ocampo

This mesmerising concert of bird birds

On the edge of the margelle.

Light voice that fills the sky

A Melodious Clarity!

The first light of Dawn,

In my attached hands

Still shake the loving hearts of the stars.

O delicious morning freshness
On the shivering water,

Veiled Hills of the raw silk of the mist!

Loved friend, what to do

Of our impossible immortality?

What to do chills

Who’s going through our united ear

Ah, this aroma of gold quinces

In the dark yellow of the room!

The Harp of the clock dancing,

Wearing purple tunics, hours!

The warm twinkle

Flowers in the window!

The air washed from the intoxicating scent of the lavender strands!

And your hands that skim

Of their quiet sweetness

The Blue of this excessive morning!

O your lips, accomplices of the day that is born

At the speed of lightning

Pass the light this winter day

And the time that beats in our breasts

If on the grey shoulder of the evening!

Athanase Vantchev of thracy

Paris, 6 January 2019

Gloss:

Silvina Ocampo (1903-1993) is one of the greatest Argentine poets.

Born in an easy family, she will follow in Paris drawing and painting courses under the tutelage of giorgio de chirico and fernand light. Her older sister, Victoria, an influential woman and editor of the Argentine magazine success on, invited her to write for her.

For about twenty-five years, she wrote articles, poems and news for this magazine. At the age of 28, she met the man of his life, Adolfo Bioy Casares, another Argentine writer, whom she married in 1940, and had a daughter, Marta.

She collaborated with borges and casares in two anthologies of the fantastic literature of the time, ” Antologia de la literatura fantastica “, in 1940, and ” Antologia Poetica Argentina “, in 1941.

She published seven collections of news between 1937 and 1988 and translated a good twenty works of her favorite authors.

One of his most important works is ” those who love, hate ” (Roman police, written in collaboration with Adolfo Bioy Casares) in 1946, ” Autobiography of Irene ” (News Collection) in 1948, ” Names ” (poems) in 1953 and ” anger ” (fantastic tales) in 1959.

Immortalia allocation preach notantes: Latin expression that means ”
Expressing divine things in human terms “. currency borrowed from lucrezia and resumed by Montaigne in his trials.

Ear: fifth finger in man. The Ear term refers to the ear to the ear, which is why this fifth finger bears the name, because it is the only one whose size allows the introduction in the ear. It is also called small finger, because it is the smallest of the five fingers of the hand.
In The Nursery Nursery, the little finger is gifted with the word and can entrust secrets in the hollow of the ear: ” my little finger told me that… ” or ” my pinkie told me that…
For the bambara, the ear, called “the son of other fingers”, has the nyamaa, that is, the vital force of other fingers; it is used for divination and to cast spells. He’s Mercury’s finger.

 

ENGLISH :

Immortalia deadly sermon notantes *

‘Ah, how futile memory would be

if there were no poems to love it.’

Silvina Ocampo

This bewitching concert of delicate sparrows

at the edge of the coping.

Light voices filling the sky

with a melodious clarity!

The first light of the dawn,

in my joined hands

the loving hearts of the stars still tremble.

O deliciously fresh morning

on the shivering waters,

hills veiled in the raw silk of the mists!

Beloved friend, what are we to do

with our impossible immortality?

What are we to do about the shivers

that run through our linked little fingers?

Ah, the faltering fragrance of golden quinces

in the yellow half-light of the room!

The harp of the clock which makes the hours dance,

dressed in mauve tunics!

The warm glimmer

of flowers at the window!

The air washed clean by the intoxicating scent of sprigs of lavender!

And your hands barely just brushing

with their quiet gentleness

the blue of this inordinate morning!

O your lips, accomplices of the dawning day!

The light of a winter’s day

will pass with lightning speed

and time which beats in our breasts

will swoon upon the grey shoulder of the evening!

*Giving to things immortal mortal names

 

Translated from the French of Athanase Vantchev de Thracyby Norton Hodges

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