#galician poetry

[absenceisaformofwinter]

"Eu son de donde a chuvia nunca deixa de caer. Aun asi a miña voz e ronca e seca".

"I belong to a place where the rain never stops falling. Yet my voice is hoarse and dry."

Galician poetry

[zsofiarosebud]

Aquí vai un masterpost de poesía galega para apuntármonos ao desafío Dostoevski canda @queixumes e mais eu (porque si, veña, vai, apúntome!)

Usarei o formato dos 12 meses - 12 poemas, aportando alternativas, pero só son suxerencias, non unha lista vinculante nin nada así. Adaptade a lista ao voso gusto :)

Preme para continuar!

XANEIRO - ROSALÍA DE CASTRO

Se falamos de poesía canónica galega, o obrigatorio é coñecer á nosa "santa laica", dona Rosalía de Castro. Por evidente (e para ligar no Avante) podemos poñer un dos máis coñecidos.

A xustiza pola man

Aqués que ten fama de honrados na vila roubáronme tanta brancura que eu tiña, botáronme estrume nas galas dun día, a roupa decote puñéronma en tiras.

Nin pedra deixaron, en donde eu vivira; sin lar, sin abrigo, morei nas curtiñas, ó raso cas lebres dormín nas campías; meus fillos… ¡meus anxos!… que tanto eu quería, ¡morreron, morreron, ca fame que tiñan! Quedei deshonrada, murcháronme a vida, fixéronme un leito de toxos e silvas; i en tanto, os raposos de sangue maldita, tranquilos nun leito de rosas dormían.

-Salv��deme, ¡ouh, xueces!, berrei… ¡Tolería! De min se mofaron, vendeume a xusticia. -Bon Dios, axudaime, berrei, berrei inda… Tan alto que estaba, bon Dios non me oíra.

Entonces cal loba doente ou ferida, dun salto con rabia pillei a fouciña, rondei paseniño… ¡Ne-as herbas sentían! I a lúa escondíase, i a fera dormía cos seus compañeiros en cama mullida.

Mireinos con calma, i as mans estendidas, dun golpe, ¡dun soio!, deixeinos sen vida. I ó lado, contenta, senteime das vítimas, tranquila, esperando pola alba do día.

I estonces… estonces, cumpreuse a xusticia: eu, neles; i as leises, na man que os ferira.

—De Follas Novas

Outra opción dentro do canon, un pouco máis curto para facilitar a aprendizaxe, tamén de Rosalía.

¡Pra a Habana! - V

Este vaise i aquel vaise,

e todos, todos se van.

Galicia, sin homes quedas

que te poidan traballar.

Tés, en cambio, orfos e orfas

e campos de soledad,

e nais que non teñen fillos

e fillos que non ten pais.

E tés corazóns que sufren

longas ausencias mortás,

viudas de vivos e mortos

que ninguén consolará.

—De Follas Novas

FEBREIRO - MANUEL ANTONIO - DE CATRO A CATRO

En febreiro, embarcamos canda Manuel Antonio cun poemario pioneiro, vangardista, escrito por un Dandi e figura dos anos 20 galegos. A min encántame.

Sós

Fomos ficando sós o Mar o barco e mais nós

  Roubaron-nos os Sol   O paquebote esmaltado que cosía con liñas de fume áxiles cadros sin marco

  Roubaron-nos o vento   Aquel veleiro que se evadeu pol-a corda floxa d'o horizonte

  Este oucéano desatracou d'as costas   e os ventos d'a Roseta ourentaron-se ao esquenzo   As nosas soedades veñen de tan lonxe como as horas d'o reloxe   Pero tamén sabemos a maniobra d'os navíos que fondean a sotavento d'unha singladura

  N-o cuadrante estantío d'as estrelas ficou parada esta hora:   O cadavre d'o Mar fixo d'o barco un cadaleito

  Fume de pipa Saudade   Noite Silenzo Frío   E ficamos nós sós   sin o Mar e sin o barco   nós.

Unha alternativa máis curta, do mesmo poemario:

Descoberta

Quen fechou esta noite a fenestra azul d'o Mar?   Este Mar fuxitivo de todal-as riveiras   Náufrago d'o neboeiro que desviou o rumbo d'os puntos cardinaes

  Ficaron as gavotas tres singladuras a sotavento   Desourentaron-se os arroaces   intrusos e impunes

  Hoxe ninguén dá c'a relinga pra aferrar os panos d'o horizonte   E este serán tampouco engayolaremol-o Sol

  O Sol era un paxaro triste que se pousaba n-o penol.

MARZO - XOHANA TORRES

Unha descuberta persoal de hai pouco. Girlpower galician edition.

Penélope

DECLARA o oráculo:

“QUE á banda do solpor é mar de mortos, incerta, última luz, non terás medo.

QUE ramos de loureiro erguen rapazas. QUE cor malva se decide o acio.

QUE acades disas patrias a vindima. QUE amaine o vento, beberás o viño.

QUE sereas sen voz a vela embaten. QUE un sumario de xerfa polos cons.”

Así falou Penélope:

“Existe a maxia e pode ser de todos. ¿A que tanto novelo e tanta historia?

EU TAMÉN NAVEGAR.”

ABRIL - LOIS PEREIRO

O noso poeta máis punk. Tería triunfado en tumblr.

Penetration Prayer

Celebra e recebe na lingua da rabia nos límites da euforia na túa boca este ouro branco e lóxico veleno co teu sangue entraberto a un mundo incerto en doses fragmentadas da ruína

pois a demolición é o ferro que nos arma

celebra a nostalxia e na ausencia do vicio conserva o teu odio condénate amén.

Alternativamente, este outro pequeno poema ben cheo de vida.

Poderíano escoller como epitafio

Cuspídeme enriba cando pasedes por diante do lugar no que eu repouse enviándome unha húmida mensaxe de vida e de furia necesaria.

MAIO - CURROS ENRÍQUEZ

O encadralo neste mes é unha chiscadela. Imos cunha das poesías centrais e fundacionais da literatura galega. A versión musicada é *bico de chef*

CÁNTIGA

   N'o xardin unha noite sentada Ó refrexo d'o branco luar, Unha nena choraba sin trégolas Os desdés d'un ingrato galan. Y-a coitada entre queixas decia: «Xa n' o mundo non teño ninguén, Vou morrer e non ven os meus ollos Os olliños d'o meu doce ben.»

   Os seus ecos de malenconía Camiñaban n'as alas d'o vento,                Y-o lamento                Repetía: «Vou morrer e non vén o meu ben!»

   Lonxe d'éla de pé sobr 'a popa D'un aleve negreiro vapor,

Emigrado, camiño d' América Vay o probe, infelís amador.

   Y-o mirar as xentís anduriñas Car' á terra que deixa cruzar: «¡Quén pudera dar volta, pensaba, Quén pudera con vosco voar!...»

   Mais as aves y-o buque fuxían Sin ouir seus amargos lamentos;                Sólo os ventos                Repetían: «¡Quén pudera con vosco voar!»

   Noites craras, d'aromas e lua, Desde enton ¡qué tristeza en vos hay Pr'os que viron chorar unha nena, Pr'os que viron un barco marchar!...

   D'un amor celestial, verdadeiro, Quedóu sólo, de bágoas á proba,                Unha coba                N'un outeiro Y-on cadavre n'o fondo d'o mar.

Unha alternativa máis curtiña:

SÓLA

   Sóla!... tan sôla cando todos antes Tras d' ela viñan con lascivo ollar D'os seus beizos purísimos y-amantes A virxinal surrisa por buscar.

   Tan sóla... cando todo parecía Un concerto inmortal d'éla arredor, Unha celest' e branda sinfunía De garruleiros páxaros d' amor!

   Morrer n'o fogo d'a ilusión primeira, Nesa mañan azul d'a mocedá!... Ver nacer unha fror n'a primaveira E vela morta poI-o outono xa!...

   Ay! Será a morte nada máis q' un sono? Tras d'o outono d'a vida qué hay pra nos? Colombo topa un mundo n'un outono... ¡Quén tan dichoso que topase á Dios!

Continuará!

MUTUALS GALEGOS!!!

quero aprenderme un poema de memoria cada mes suxerídeme algún!!!! vai un montón q non leo poesía en galego :(

[john-keels-sinister-goatee]

Ya Nam Quero Ser Pastora

No more I wish     To be a shepherd-girl, Nor any more     To hold a shepherd-boy— For evil comes so near, For evil comes so near.

So far, so far from fortune! So close, so close to pain! So bitter to the taste, For cause of this, my sorrow.

You are mortal. Suffer not     So hard a life. For evil comes so near, For evil comes so near.

So far, so far from fortune! So close, so close to pain! So bitter to the taste, For cause of this, my sorrow.

(My translation. Original here, along with music, another English translation, and modern Portuguese)

This one isn't actually a cantiga, as far as I can tell. I've gathered that it's from the Renaissance(?), and the versions of it on Youtube are really beautiful, but beyond that I haven't found out much about it. Always on the look out for more info on it, if anyone knows more.

Isso não é uma cantiga em verdade, até onde sei. Acho que é do Renascimento(?), e as versões dela em Youtube são bem lindas, mas além disso, eu não descobri muito. Estou sempre buscando mais informações sobre isso, se alguém saiba mais.

[absenceisaformofwinter]

"Search and long for tranquility... but... who will bring him peace? With what he dreams awake, he returns to dream asleep.

For today like yesterday, and tomorrow like today, in his eternal longing to find the good he craves - when he only encounters evil - condemned to always dream, he can never find peace."

Rosalia de Castro

Busca y anhela el sosiego...

mas... ¿quién le sosegará?

Con lo que sueña despierto,

dormido vuelve a soñar.

Que hoy como ayer, y mañana

cual hoy, en su eterno afán,

de hallar el bien que ambiciona

-cuando sólo encuentra el mal-,

siempre a soñar condenado,

nunca puede sosegar.

— Rosalía de Castro

[nowtoboldlygo]

twenty books in spanish, tbr

for when i'm fluent!! most with translations in english.

Sistema Nervoso, Lina Meruane (2021) - Latin American literature professor from Chile, contemporary litfic

Ansibles, perfiladores y otras máquinas de ingenio, Andrea Chapela (2020) - short story collection from a Mexican scifi author, likened to Black Mirror

Nuestra parte de noche, Mariana Enríquez (2019) - very long literary horror novel by incredibly famous Argentine journalist 

Canto yo y la montaña baila, Irene Solà (2019) - translated into Spanish from Castilian by Concha Cardeñoso, contemporary litfic

Las malas, Camila Sosa Villada (2019) - very well rated memoir/autofiction from a trans Argentine author

Humo, Gabriela Alemán (2017) - short litfic set in Paraguay, by Ecuadoran author

La dimensión desconocida, Nona Fernández (2016) - really anything by this Chilean actress/writer; this one is a Pinochet-era historical fiction & v short

Distancia de rescate, Samanta Schweblin (2014) - super short litfic by an Argentinian author based in Germany, loved Fever Dream in English

La ridícula idea de no volver a verte, Rosa Montero (2013) - nonfiction; Spanish author discusses scientist Maria Skłodowska-Curie and through Curie, her own life

Lágrimas en la lluvia, Rosa Montero (2011) - sff trilogy by a Spanish journalist

Los peligros de fumar en la cama, Mariana Enríquez (2009) - short story collection, author noted above

Delirio, Laura Restrepo (2004) - most popular book (maybe) by an award-winning Colombian author; literary fiction

Todos los amores, Carmen Boullosa (1998) - poetry! very popular Mexican author, really open to anything on the backlist this is just inexpensive used online

Olvidado rey Gudú, Ana María Matute (1997) - cult classic, medieval fantasy-ish, award-winning Spanish author

Como agua para chocolate, Laura Esquivel (1989) - v famous novel by v famous Mexican author

Ekomo, María Nsué Angüe (1985) - super short litfic about woman's family, post-colonial Equatoguinean novel; out of print

La casa de los espíritus, Isabelle Allende (1982) - or really anything by her, Chilean author known for magical realism; read in English & didn't particularly love but would be willing to give it another try

Nada, Carmen Laforet (1945) - Spanish author who wrote after the Spanish civil war, v famous novel

Los pazos de Ulloa, Emilia Pardo Bazán (1886) - book one in a family drama literary fiction duology by a famous Galician author, pretty dense compared to the above

La Respuesta, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1691) -  i actually have a bilingual poetry collection from our favorite 17th century feminist Mexican nun; this is an essay defending the right of women to be engaged in intellectual work (& it includes some poems)

bookmarked websites:

Separata Árabe, linked by Arablit

reading challenge Un viaje por la literatura en español

[demolina]

 → history + maría pérez la balteira

requested by anonymous 

María Pérez Balteira is the best known of the medieval soldaderas and, of course, the main female character in galician-portuguese medieval lyric poetry. Contemporary troubadours, secularists and minstrels made her the target of their collective jokes. Jokes that were recorded in the medieval songbooks and which were considered as they were, without separating or omitting any words in their proper measure, many of them being exaggerated expressions. — Joaquim Ventura, O contrato de María Pérez Balteira con Sobrado 

[absenceisaformofwinter]

"What for do I write verses...?

"What for do I write verses...?

So that you may know

that beneath my snow

a volcano beats."

Vicenta Castro Cambón

[lumestari]

Reading this post and its reblogs is making me realise that actually, I know a fair amount about poetry.

So people are wondering what makes a poem. First off, you need to understand that there are three different genres of literature: narrative, lyrical and dramatic. These are characterised by their intentions: narrative lit intends to tell a story, lyrical wants to showcase feelings, and dramatic is made to be acted out in a stage. And thusly, their conventions and stylisations are born: theatre is written out that way to help with its purpose, and so is poetry.

You can have poems that aren't lyrical: narrative poems, also called odes, are one of these. Poems can also be theatrical, made for the stage (I don't know any English literature, but you can see theatrical poetry in Fuenteovejuna, a mid 17th century Spanish play about a village revolting against the lord that mistreats them, and is written entirely in verse).

So, therefore, if it wants to convey emotions, feelings or sensations as its first priority, it's a poem.

The most sure sign that someone doesn’t know much about poetry is when they insist that poetry has to rhyme.

And the most sure sign that someone is a little too pretentious about poetry is when they say that they hate rhyming poetry.

[go-learn-esperanto]

I hate when I hyoerfixate on a traditional thing because it's like; who am I going to talk to about this? Does anyone wanna hear me scream about all the versions I found of this traditional Portuguese song??? Does anyone wanna hear me talk about the parallels of love and control? The usage of the song in a communist event? The weird obsession of Portuguese traditional songs of being love songs that have the men in love with the women putting themselves in the position of "you're such a beautiful woman and great and I love you but I'm so bad and not worthy of your eyes even landing on me", which very likely comes from the Galician-portuguese poetry of medieval times where Galician-portuguese was the prestige language over here and everyone was writing poetry with this exact concept which in turn was inspired by the Provençal poetry and oh my gods it's been almost a thousand years and we still have repercussions of that in today's (Portuguese) society.

[edisonblog]

João Airas de Santiago - Galician troubadour, poetically active in the second half of the 13th century, would have attended the court of Afonso X. Present in 16th century apographs.

Songbook from the National Library and Vatican Songbook, with 81 compositions (21 love songs, 45 friend songs, 1 pastorela, 10 songs of mockery and curses, 2 tensions and 2 moral sirventeses).

Constituting one of the most representative poets of troubadour lyricism, his work reflects a moment of maturity in Galician-Portuguese poetry, at the same time as it reveals an extraordinary capacity for renewing the lyrical tradition that is bequeathed to him.

Satirical troubadour song:-

A lady, I won't say which one,

she had a strong omen,

for the Christmas octaves:

she left the house to go to mass,

but she heard a carrion crow,

and she didn't want to leave the house anymore.

The owner, with a very good heart,

she went to mass,

to hear her sermon,

but look what stopped her:

she heard a crow above her,

and she didn't want to leave the house anymore.

The owner said: - And now?

The priest is ready

and he will curse me

if you don't see me at church.

And she said to the crow: – Here, here,

and she didn't want to leave the house anymore.

I have never seen such omens,

since the day I was born,

like what happened this year here:

she wanted to try to leave,

but she heard a crow above her,

and she didn't want to leave the house anymore.

About: -

This song satirizes the figure of a woman - possibly a false blessed - who, ready to go to mass, hears the cawing of a crow hungry for meat. Since the crow is an ominous bird, she decides to stay.

From that moment on, ambiquity was created: on the one hand, omen and superstition were part of the strong mysticism of the Middle Ages: on the other, the subtleties of the language, the puns, the word games suggest that the crow that settles around The woman's side (or in her bed) is a man, thirsty for flesh (sex).

Pay attention to the rich use of the onomatopoeia "quá, a cá", which, at the same time, suggests the bird's cawing and the man's order: come here!

#edisonmariotti @edison

.br

João Airas de Santiago - Trovador galego, poeticamente ativo na segunda metade do século XIII, teria frequentado a corte de Afonso X. Presente nos apógrafos quinhentistas.

Cancioneiro da Biblioteca Nacional e Cancioneiro da Vaticana, com 81 composições (21 cantigas de amor, 45 cantigas de amigo, 1 pastorela, 10 cantigas de escárnio e maldizer, 2 tenções e 2 sirventeses morais).

Constituindo um dos poetas mais representativos do lirismo trovadoresco, a sua obra reflete um momento de maturidade da poesia galego-portuguesa, ao mesmo tempo que revela uma extraordinária capacidade de renovação da tradição lírica que lhe é legada.

Cantiga trovadoresca satírica: -

Uma dona, não vou dizer qual,

teve um forte agouro,

pelas oitavas de Natal:

saia de casa para ir à missa,

mas ouviu um corvo carniceiro,

e não quis mais sair de casa.

A dona, de um coração muito bom,

ia à missa ,

para ouvir seu sermão,

mas veja o que a impediu:

ouviu um corvo sobre si,

e não quis mais sair de casa.

A dona disse: - E agora?

O padre já está pronto

e irá maldizer-me

se não me vir na igreja.

E disse o corvo: – Quá, a cá,

e ela não quis mais sair de casa.

Nunca vi tais agouros,

desde o dia em que nasci,

como o que ocorreu neste ano por aqui:

ela quis tentar partir,

mas ouviu um corvo sobre si,

e não quis mais sair de casa.

Sobre: -

Nesta cantiga, satiriza-se a figura de uma mulher - possivelmente uma falsa beata - que, pronta para ir à missa, ouve o crocitar de um corvo faminto de carne. Já que o corvo é uma ave agourenta , resolve ficar.

A partir desse momento é criada a ambiguidade: por um lado, o agouro e a superstição integravam o forte misticismo da Idade Média: por outro, as sutilezas da linguagem, os trocadilhos, os jogos de palavras vão sugerindo que o corvo que se instala ao lado da mulher (ou em sua cama) é um homem, sedento de carne (sexo).

Atente para a riqueza do emprego da onomatopeia "quá, a cá", que, ao mesmo tempo, sugere o crocitar da ave e a ordem do homem: venha cá! @edisonblog

[ricmlm]

Lisbon Revisited – Poetry Days 2023

The days of poetry are back in a new edition of Lisbon Revisited, the literary festival that Casa Fernando Pessoa has been promoting since 2018.

For three days, they gather around Portuguese and foreign guest books.

An opportunity to listen to contemporary poets, with very different paths, share stories about their writing processes, read poems and talk about what motivates them.

The United Kingdom's poet laureate, Simon Armitage, will come to Portugal for the first time, as will Kwame Dawes (Ghana/Jamaica) and Halyna Kruk (Ukraine). They join the Galician Chus Pato, already published here, and the Portuguese Andreia C. Faria, Hélia Correia, João Luís Barreto Guimarães and Pedro Mexia.

Halfway through the festival, Casa Fernando Pessoa hosts a concert by The Girl No, for whom poetry and music are built together.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Ricardo Miguel Lopes Moreira (@ricmlm)

[john-keels-sinister-goatee]

A Do Mui Bom Parecer

The one who looks so comely Bid me seize the frame drum:     I die to love - how lovely!

The one who seems so comely Bid me beat the frame drum:     I die to love - how lovely!

He bid me seize the frame drum And not to let him rest: He bid me beat the frame drum And not to let him falter:     I die to love -     How lovely!

(original here, translation mine)

[potter-pavlikovsky-popchyk]

ughhh.. so, been slowly trying my hand at adding some Russian stuff to translate my fics (slowly, so don't get ur hopes up! lol okay, just a fun side project, alongside some poetry too, YES some for Boreo lol) and went into my "Sick over you" doc, scrolled past this sentence, "His eyes cast in something of an arder fashion, kept finding their way back to Bois’." Okay, so... that's not really used in English lol and i'm so sorry if i confused anyone! With the context clues stated after you, could tell i meant the Latin (ārdēre) verb definition (or the variant i used, which is found in Old Galician-Portuguese) i actually noticed, it's harder to find that definition than the common one that is used in English (but obsolete as far as i'm aware): referring to plowing or fallowing land/ fallow land. SO.... yeah, if anyone didn't know, now ya know. I'm changed that to something fiery. Sorry about that.

(also, my god, my old grammar is so bad. i'm so sorry. i'm still learning guys, bare with me. i'll eventually go back and correct all things in due time, just super busy and rather get more stuff out. it's grammar that doesn't alter you the reading so i'm gonna not beat myself up about it.)

[asolovio]

"... e veleiquí o remate do

vivir, tantos e tantos anos retrasado."

"... behold the end of living,

so and so many years delayed."

Book: Con pólvora e magnolias

Author: Xosé Luís Méndez Ferrín

[paintingfinger]

Spinning

In this post I am looking at two poems about spinning by Novoneyra. You can listen to the Podcast here: Poetry in the Mountains

-Slender little spinner always at your spinning always spinning and dreaming in the end to come to nothing. -In the end to come to nothing, that has still to be seen since with the linen threads as I twist them from their place something has to take. -Something has to take an…