Yaki Setton

Sergio Waisman

Sergio Waisman Translates Yaki Setton

Poetry in Translation Issue
Volume 16:3, Summer 2015

City

Alone in the park, there is nothing to do,

to invent something, we kick a ball around.

My back hurts, my thighs too, and they are running;

they are thirteen, sixteen, playing with their father.

>>>

I am driving. Holding the steering wheel, I stretch my arm out like a blind man,

touch one of their legs. The only way to know

they are next to me and we are still alive as the city

streams past and speed courses through us.

>>>

He is on the bus already. He looks at me, he does not look at me. He does not know

how to leave but leaves anyway. We take our distance,

we come, we go. It is too much love and I do not know

how far it will reach.

>>>

I see them grow up and I hold on to them

with an energetic embrace to keep them from escaping

they give in to it as if it were goodbye.

>>>

He tells me the news about school, the city,

the house. The report reaches me like a whisper natural

and strange at once. It sounds magical, a talisman

from son to father that is only what it is.

>>>

It’s those moments of grace. At midnight, jammed

in the back of a taxi going from one end

of the city to the other. They talk about soccer, players,

statistics, championships won by the blue and gold.

I am filled with happiness I know not why as I doze

and my head bobs and rises ceaselessly.

 

Ciudad

Estamos solos en la plaza sin nada que hacer,

hay que inventar algo y empezamos a patear una pelota.

La espalda duele, los muslos también y ellos corren;

tienen trece, dieciséis y juegan con su padre.

>>>

Manejo. Me agarro al volante, estiro el brazo como un ciego,

palpo uno de sus muslos. Es la única manera de saber

que están a mi lado y seguimos vivos mientras la ciudad

sigue su curso y la velocidad nos atraviesa.

>>>

Ya subió al micro. Me mira, no me mira. No sabe

cómo irse pero igual se va. Tomamos distancia,

venimos y vamos. Es demasiado cariño y no sé

hasta dónde llega.

>>>

Los veo crecer y me aferro a ellos

con un enérgico abrazo para que no escapen

y se entregan a él como si fuera la despedida.

>>>

Me cuenta las novedades de la escuela, la calle,

la casa. El reporte llega como un susurro natural

y extraño a la vez. Suena mágico, un talismán

del hijo al padre que sólo es lo que es.

>>>

Son esos momentos de gracia. Es medianoche y apretados

los tres en el asiento trasero de un taxi vamos de una punta

a otra de la ciudad. Ellos hablan de fútbol, de jugadores,

de estadísticas y campeonatos ganados por la azul y oro.

La felicidad me atraviesa no sé por qué mientras dormito

y mi cabeza cae y se levanta sin cesar.

 

Yaki Setton was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1961. He has published five books of poetry, including Niñas (bajo la luna, 2004), Nombres propios (bajo la luna, 2010), and La educación musical (Bajo la luna, 2013). His other publications include La revuelta surrealista (Libros del Quirquincho, 1990), the compilation Cartas a sus padres by Franz Kafka (Imago Mundi, 1991), and Vidas posibles in collaboration with Maite Alvarado (Eudeba, 2000).

Sergio Waisman is a translator, writer, and Professor of Spanish and Latin American literature at The George Washington University. He has translated the work of Leopoldo Lugones, Juana Manuela Gorriti, Delmira Agustini, Mariano Azuela, Ricardo Piglia, and Juan José Saer, among others. His book Borges and Translation: The Irreverence of the Periphery (2005) has been published in English, Spanish, and Italian. In 2000, he received an NEA Translation Fellowship Award for his work with Ricardo Piglia's La Ciudad Ausente/The Absent City. http://sergiowaisman.weebly.com.