jueves, 16 de abril de 2015

RAY YOUNG BEAR [15.631]


RAY YOUNG BEAR

(Nacido en 1950 en Marshalltown, Iowa) es un nativo americano poeta y novelista de la tribu Meskwaki. Escribe sobre los nativos americanos contemporáneos en Inglés y en el idioma Meskwaki . El tema de sus poemas y creaciones son la búsqueda de la identidad del Indio Americano. Sus poemas cuentan la dolorosa conciencia de la pérdida de identidad.

Poesía

Grandmother (1975)
Winter of the Salamander (1980)
The Invisible Musician (1990)
The Rock Island Hiking Club (2001)
The Aura of the Blue Flower That is a Goddess (2001)

Ficción

Black Eagle Child (1992)
Remnants of the First Earth (1996)



POESÍA INDIA 
ESTADOUNIDENSE CONTEMPORÁNEA
Traducción: Márgara Averbach




ABUELA 

si viera 
su forma 
a un kilómetro 
sabría 
tan rápido 
que es ella. 
la bufanda púrpura 
y la bolsa 
de plástico para las compras. 
si sintiera 
sus manos sobre mi cabeza 
sabría que ésas 
son sus manos 
tibias y húmedas
con olor 
a raíces. 
si oyera 
una voz 
que llega 
desde una piedra 
sabría 
y sus palabras 
se deslizarían en mí 
como la luz 
de alguien 
que mueve las cenizas 
de un fuego dormido 
en la noche. 



GRANDMOTHER 

if i were to see 
her shape from a mile away 
i’d known so quickly 
that it would be her. 
the purple scarf 
and the plastic 
shopping bag. 
if i felt 
hands on my head 
i’d known that those
were her hands 
warm and damp 
with the smell 
of roots. 
if i heard 
a voice 
coming from 
a rock 
i’d know 
and her words 
would flow inside me 
like the light 
of someone 
stirring ashes 
from a sleeping fire 
at night 





The Aura of the Blue Flower That is a Goddess

 Immediately after the two brothers entered 
The Seafood Shoppe with their wide-eyed wives 
and extra-brown complexioned stepchildren, 
the shrimp scampi sauce suddenly altered 
its taste to bitter dishsoap. It took a moment 
to realize the notorious twosome were “carrying”
medicines, and that I was most likely the next 
target in the supernatural shooting gallery. 
It was yet another stab at my precious 
shadow, ne no ke we ni, the one who 
always Stands First, wildly unafraid 
but vulnerable.

This placement of time, this chance meeting 
at Long John Silver’s had already been discussed 
over the burning flower clusters, approved, 
and scheduled for a divine assassination.
What an ideal place to invisibly send forth 
a petraglyph thorn to the sensitive 
and unsuspecting instep I thought.
Out of fear I had to spit out the masticated 
crustacean into the folded Dutch bandana. 
I signalled Selene with my eyes:
something is terribly wrong here.

Even in the old stories, ke ta-a ji mo na ni, 
my grandmother recited there was always 
disagreement, jealousy, and animosity 
between supernatural deities. That 
actuality for humans, me to se na ni wa ki, 
however was everpresent. It didn’t conclude 
as an impasse that gave us the weather, 
the four seasons, the stars, sun, and moon. 
Everything that was held together.

                    Unfortunately,
there could only be one re-creation 
of earth. If it was requested in the aura 
of the blue flower that I die, 
the aura would make sure I die. . .

Later, the invisible thorn--when removed by 
resident-physicians (paying back their medical 
loans)--would transform into some unidentifiable 
protoplasm and continue to hide in the more 
sensitive, cancer-attracting parts of the fish-
eater.

In the mythical darkness that would follow 
the stories the luminescent mantle of the kerosene 
lamp would aptly remind me of stars who cooled 
down in pre-arranged peace--to quietly wait 
and glow.

From The Rock Island Hiking Club by Ray A. Young Bear, published by the University of Iowa Press. 





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