Sandra's Book, Lluvia
Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 9:25 pm
Sandra from Chile - who used to post as 'Sandra' and now as 'lluvia' - sent me a copy of her poetry book, Lluvia, and with her permission I am writing here a very brief description of what I like about it.
It's one of life's pleasures to receive a surprise in the post, particularly from a far-off land. Lluvia has a simple lilac-coloured cover and a faint sort-of-incense-smell (I always smell new things, especially books, and they often suggest this enticing aroma). Poems are in four sections, in Spanish with English translation on the opposite page, making it easy (for an English reader) to glance over to see how lines read in the original.
The first section, which sets the intimate tone of the book, is entitled La Lluvia/The Rain. My fave from this part is A Single Drop, which is about a single drop of rain heralding a downpour - I know this drop! - great to find a poem about it: (I feel like) lighting a fire and waiting for its rattle-tap/in an intimate atmosphere in the night (en un ambiente intimo en la noche - doesn't everything sound better in Spanish?).
The second section, Con Generosidad/With Generosity, is of simple expressions of gratitude for love. A haiku selection:
1992
I see you trembling,
as I come closer to you
all the world fading
Section three is Los Espacios Mas Sutiles/The Subtlest Spaces. I quote the first lines of The Letters: letters were born on a paper/like a spoonful of stars. This section in particular reminds me of Zen poetry in its directness. An example, Greeting in the Country opens with,
in the open air
under the blue sky
I am
The final section, Dedicadas/Dedicated, poetry about Sandra's dearest family and friends, is my favourite part because it reminds me of a long-ago exchange on the forum I had with Sandra about the importance of intimate connections. Two pieces:
Basquiat (to Basquait)
among the sublest spaces
we found each other
I can not see you but I know you,
when between the lines
and in the quiet air
the chucao sings softly
the Chucao is a typical bird from the forest of the southern part of Chile
---------------
Mi amigo (to G.T)
words had never had more sense than now,
we play the ping pong game so well,
we never fail a single stroke
you throw, I get
I propose, you accept
you insinuate, I guess,
sparks crossing the space
always touch the right place,
silence has never served
so meaningful as now my friend.
Congratulations, Sandra, in getting your fine work into print, and in a fitting simple and attractive presentation. And thanks everso for the gift!
It's one of life's pleasures to receive a surprise in the post, particularly from a far-off land. Lluvia has a simple lilac-coloured cover and a faint sort-of-incense-smell (I always smell new things, especially books, and they often suggest this enticing aroma). Poems are in four sections, in Spanish with English translation on the opposite page, making it easy (for an English reader) to glance over to see how lines read in the original.
The first section, which sets the intimate tone of the book, is entitled La Lluvia/The Rain. My fave from this part is A Single Drop, which is about a single drop of rain heralding a downpour - I know this drop! - great to find a poem about it: (I feel like) lighting a fire and waiting for its rattle-tap/in an intimate atmosphere in the night (en un ambiente intimo en la noche - doesn't everything sound better in Spanish?).
The second section, Con Generosidad/With Generosity, is of simple expressions of gratitude for love. A haiku selection:
1992
I see you trembling,
as I come closer to you
all the world fading
Section three is Los Espacios Mas Sutiles/The Subtlest Spaces. I quote the first lines of The Letters: letters were born on a paper/like a spoonful of stars. This section in particular reminds me of Zen poetry in its directness. An example, Greeting in the Country opens with,
in the open air
under the blue sky
I am
The final section, Dedicadas/Dedicated, poetry about Sandra's dearest family and friends, is my favourite part because it reminds me of a long-ago exchange on the forum I had with Sandra about the importance of intimate connections. Two pieces:
Basquiat (to Basquait)
among the sublest spaces
we found each other
I can not see you but I know you,
when between the lines
and in the quiet air
the chucao sings softly
the Chucao is a typical bird from the forest of the southern part of Chile
---------------
Mi amigo (to G.T)
words had never had more sense than now,
we play the ping pong game so well,
we never fail a single stroke
you throw, I get
I propose, you accept
you insinuate, I guess,
sparks crossing the space
always touch the right place,
silence has never served
so meaningful as now my friend.
Congratulations, Sandra, in getting your fine work into print, and in a fitting simple and attractive presentation. And thanks everso for the gift!
.
.