sábado, 23 de febrero de 2013

MICHAEL SHARKEY [9277]


Michael Sharkey

Michael Sharkey
Michael Sharkey nació en Canterbury, New South Wales, Australia. ES autor de casi 20 libros de poesía, obtuvo una licenciatura de la Universidad de Sydney y un doctorado de la Universidad de Auckland, en Nueva Zelanda, donde estudió la obra de Byron.

Alguna de sus obras:

His poetry collections include Woodcuts (1978), The Way It Is: Selected Poems (1984), Alive in Difficult Times (1991), Look, He Said: Poems (1994), Park (2000), History: Selected Poems 1978–2000 (2002), The Sleeping Plain (2007), Another Fine Morning in Paradise (2012), and the DVD compilation of his work Poetry in Motion.




Poema para traducirse a cualquier lengua

Yo beso tus sobacos
y tus ojos,
y cejas,
dedos, huecos de la nariz,
y también
pongo mi lengua
en tu oreja.
Me place.
Entonces tu espinazo recibe atención:
Beso tus vértebras,
tus caderas,
tus omóplatos.
Tu vientre consumirá mi concentración.
Me entregas tus miradas
que queman mis labios,
los dos.
¿Cómo puedo hablar libremente de tus pechos?
Aguacates calientes.
Lo que me gusta de tu cuello
es tu cabeza sobre él,
riendo.
Devuélveme mi lengua,
la dejé en alguna parte de tu pelo.
Mi lengua se te acerca una vez más,
y se rinde,
jadeando, acostándose a tu lado.
Y mi lengua busca otras cosas de ti,
también mis dientes
que muerden tu perfume,
y tú te has ido.

Traducción: Mariluz Suárez Herrera / Lauren Williams 







Imaginary Countries: The Real World

In the real world
lovers part at morning with a kiss
and look back longingly
before they pass from sight.

They go insouciant to work
and smile at times;
their life’s Vivaldi.

Others bring what poetry they can into a life
by counting days
until employment comes again.
They look at cherries in the fruit store and imagine
biting in. They look so good.

Children break from singing in the drill hall,
burst outside to toss their frisbees in the park.
A boy plays Satie on the piano;
two Americans embrace
as traffic whispers up the drive.
They are embarking for the real world’s farthest shore.

In the real world
someone signs petitions
every moment, tidies other people’s trash
and greets another who is loved by someone else.
This is how the real world copes with being economics,
mathematics and ecology and botany
and waiting for the bus.

Costumed people earn their living slipping
from the real world to persuade us to buy moon-cakes,
supple skin and perfect hair.
We smile to see them aping us.

Gymnorhina tibicen swoops low and boasts her turf:
the children run and shout out, ‘Magpie’
while the bird recalls the day in mimic song;
order then restored, she dines alfresco on their scraps.

And while we watch Magritte’s sky turn El Greco,
roofs de Chirico beneath the plastic clouds,
a plane is pasted on a sudden patch of blue.


Michael Sharkey, "Imaginary Countries: The Real World" text from The Sweeping Plain, Five Islands Press, 2007






Eating Sin

A man began to eat his order of fish, and the ghost of the fish arose and spoke. Forgive me, it said, please hear me. I died in despair, which is, as you know, the worst of the deadly sins. As I slowly suffocated in the alien air, I gave up hope of salvation, and so died without the consolation of religion. In your compassion and mercy, have a Mass said for me, and pray for my soul. With that, the ghost of the fish vanished, and the man, congratulating himself on possessing the carcass of such a remorseful creature, tucked in.


Michael Sharkey, "Eating Sin" text from The Sweeping Plain, Five Islands Press, 2007; audio from ‘Readings from The Sweeping Plain’






The Paradise Flick

How do we know Eve and Adam were happy,
deprived, as they were, of a childhood?

Eve never knew, unlike Adam, a world
that was free of the chatter of others.’

How did she cope? And how could she choose,
if she’d wanted, to live by herself?

What did the man eat that made him hear voices,
while Eve was inventing frustration?

Where could she go for a break from the sound
of Himself, in his skin suit, like Tarzan,

assuring the bush that he’d just given birth to a woman?
Did she smile at the fool, or remind him that he was

asleep when she turned up and found him?
Where could she go to be shot of his need for a mother?

(A pity she woke him.)
Life for them both was a training film shown in real time,

on the zen of zoo-keeping.
When the encyclopedia seller arrived, who could blame her for buying?

No exit pollster asked how she felt
when she left at the end of the movie.

Michael Sharkey, "The Paradise Flick" text from The Sweeping Plain, Five Islands Press, 2007; audio from ‘Readings from The Sweeping Plain’







No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario en la entrada