LESLIE MARMON SILKO [15.630] Poeta de Estados Unidos

Leslie Marmon Silko

Leslie Marmon Silko (nacida Leslie Marmon, el 05 de marzo 1948) es una Laguna Pueblo escritora y una de las figuras claves en la primera ola de lo que el crítico literario Kenneth Lincoln ha llamado el renacimiento americano de los nativos.

En la actualidad reside en Tucson, Arizona.

Bibliografía 

Novelas 

Ceremony . 1977. / reprint . San Val, Incorporated. 1986. ISBN 978-0-613-03297-1 .

Almanac of the Dead . 1991. / reprint . Penguin. 1991. ISBN 978-0140173192 .

Gardens in the Dunes . Simon and Schuster. 2000. ISBN 978-0-684-86332-0 .

Poesía y cuentos colecciones 

Laguna Women: Poems (1974)

Western Stories (1980)

Storyteller . Henry Holt & Company. 1981. ISBN 978-0-8050-0192-1 .

Sacred Water: Narratives and Pictures . Flood Plain Press. 1994. ISBN 978-0-9636554-0-0 

Rain (1996)

Love poem and Slim Canyon (1996)

Oceanstory (2011) Published as a Kindle Single and available for digital download on Amazon.com

Otras obras 

The Turquoise Ledge: A Memoir (2010)

Ellen L. Arnold, ed. (2000). Conversations with Leslie Marmon Silko . University Press of Mississippi. ISBN 978-1-57806-301-7 .

Yellow Woman and a Beauty of the Spirit: Essays on Native American Life Today . Simon and Schuster. 1997. ISBN 978-0-684-82707-0 .

Melody Graulich, ed. (1993). Yellow woman . Rutgers University Press. ISBN 978-0-8135-2005-6 .

Delicacy And Strength of Lace Letters (1986)

"Indian Song: Survival" , Chicago Review , Vol. 24, No. 4 (Spring, 1973), pp. 94–96

POESÍA INDIA 

ESTADOUNIDENSE CONTEMPORÁNEA

Traducción: Márgara Averbach

DONDE PUMA SE ACOSTÓ CON CIERVO

 febrero, 1973

Trepo por la montaña de roca negra 

pisando de día en día 

en silencio. 

Huelo el viento para mis antepasados 

hojas celestes 

perfume salvaje aplastado de 

montaña. 

Volviendo 

por el acantilado de piedra gris 

por el que bajé 

hace mil años. 

Volviendo a una piedra desvaída negra 

donde el gato montés se 

acostó con el ciervo. 

Es mejor quedarse aquí arriba 

mirando 

el reflejo del viento 

en altas flores 

amarillas. 

Los viejos que me recuerdan ya no están 

las viejas 

canciones se olvidaron 

y la historia de 

mi nacimiento. 

Como bailé a la 

luz de luna congelada de nieve 

estrellas distantes hasta el fin de la Tierra, 

Como me fui nadando en agua 

congelada de montaña 

cañón estrecho lleno de musgo /derrumbándome 

fuera de la montaña 

fuera de la piedra del cañón /profundo 

abajo por la memoria 

derramándome hacia el mundo. 

WHERE MOUNTAINLION LAID DOWN WITH DEER

February, 1973

I climb the black rock mountain 

stepping from day

to day silently.

I smell the wind for my ancestors 

play blue leaves 

crushed wild mountain smell. 

Returning up the grey stone 

cliff

where I descended 

a thousand years ago. 

Returning to a faded black stone 

where mountainlion laid 

down with deer. 

It is better to stay up here 

Watching wind’s reflection 

in tall yellow flowers. 

The old ones who remember me are gone 

the old songs are all forgotten 

and the story of my birth. 

How I danced in snow-frost moonlight 

distant stars to the end of the Earth, 

How I swam away 

in freezing mountain water 

narrow mossy canyon tumbling down 

out of the mountain 

out of deep canyon stone 

down 

the memory 

spilling out 

into the world. 

EL DÍA QUE SUBIMOS A LA MONTAÑA 
DE LAS VÍBORAS 

Como vi buenos lugares 
para mis manos 
tomé las partes tibias del acantilado 
y sentí la montaña 

mientras trepaba. 
En algún lugar, cerca, 
víbora de manchas amarillas 
duerme en su roca 
al sol. 

Así que, 
por favor, les digo, 
tengan cuidado, 
no pisen a la víbora de manchas amarillas. 
Vive aquí. 
La montaña es suya. 

THE TIME WE CLIMBED SNAKE MOUNTAIN 

Seeing good places 

for my hands 

I grab the warm parts of the cliff 

And I feel the mountain as I climb.

Somewhere around here 
Yellow spotted snake is sleeping on his  /rock 
In the sun. 

So 
please, I tell them 
watch out, 
don’t step on the spotted yellow snake 
he lives here. 
The mountain is his.

Lullaby

The earth is your mother,

she holds you.

The sky is your father,

he protects you.

Sleep,

sleep.

Rainbow is your sister,

she loves you.

The winds are your brothers,

they sing to you.

Sleep,

sleep.

We are together always

We are together always

There never was a time

when this

was not so. 

Ceremony

I will tell you something about stories,'

[he said] 

They aren't just entertainment. 

Don't be fooled. 

They're all we have, you see. 

All we have to fight off illness and death. 

You don't have anything 

if you don't have the stories. 

Their evil is mighty, 

but it can't stand up to our stories. 

So they try to destroy the stories, 

but the stories cannot be confused or forgotten. 

They would like that. 

They would be happy 

because we would be defenseless then.

[He rubs his belly]

I keep it in here,

[he said] 

Here, put your hand on it. 

See? 

It is moving. 

Ts' its' tsi' nako, Thought-Woman,

is sitting in her room

and what ever she thinks about

appears.

She thought of her sisters,

Nau' ts' ity' i and I' tcs' i,

and together they created the Universe

this world

and the four worlds below.

Thought-Woman, the spider,

named things and

as she named them

they appeared.

She is sitting in her room

thinking of a story now

I'm telling you the story

she is thinking. 

Love Poem

Rain smell comes with the wind

out of the southwest.

Smell of sand dunes

tall grass glistening

in the rain.

Warm raindrops that fall easy

(this woman)

The summer is born.

Smell of her breathing new life

small gray toads on

damp sand.

(this woman)

whispering to dark wide leaves

white moon blossoms dripping

tracks in the

sand.

Rain smell

I am full of hunger

deep and longing to touch

wet tall grass, green and strong beneath.

This woman loved a man

and she breathed to him

her damp earth song.

I was haunted by this story

I remember it in cottonwood leaves

their fragrance in

the shade.

I remember it in the wide blue sky

when the rain smell comes with the wind.