The Barrcast

In episode 8 we read and translate Horacio Quiroga's poem "Tu Agonía." Original: http://www.poesi.as/hq01078.htm Translation: the afternoon was dying and your voice was a silk piano and your wet hand felt limp in mine. your fingers anointed me with something like forgiveness and you spoke and the gates closed behind us. the summer gasped and the daisies sighed and the afternoon died, bleeding out and into your temples and on those purple lakes I saw two swans heralding your agony.

In episode 7 we read Borges' essay "El Idioma Analítico de John Wilkins." Spanish and English versions here: languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/myl/ldc/wilkins.html languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=8930

In this episode 6 we visit the work of California-based Language poet Rae Armantrout. We read her poem "Integer" in English and Spanish, and then provide a translation of our own. About Rae Armantrout: www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/rae-armantrout JotDown interview: www.jotdown.es/2012/03/rae-armantrout-me-inquieta-tener-una-experiencia-que-no-se-puede-articular/ John Cage Mushroom Haiku: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNzVQ8wRCB0 INTEGRA 1 Un qué? Un agarre? No manos. No colección de estrellas. Algo oscuro lo impregna. 2 Metáfora es sacrificio ritual. Mata el parecido. No, metáfora es homepatía. Una célula sana se exhibe inhibicion de contacto. 3 Estes créditos temporales ya no estarán reflejados en tu próximo período de facturación. 4 "Oscuro" significando no reflejando, no dispuesto a sugerencia.

In this episode we read Chapter 68 of Julio Cortázar's Hopscotch. It's an erotic prose poem reminiscent of Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky. Here's the passage: Apenas él le amalaba el noema, a ella se le agolpaba el clémiso y caían en hidromurias, en salvajes ambonios, en sustalos exasperantes. Cada vez que él procuraba relamar las incopelusas, se enredaba en un grimado quejumbroso y tenía que envulsionarse de cara al nóvalo, sintiendo cómo poco a poco las arnillas se espejunaban, se iban apeltronando, reduplimiendo, hasta quedar tendido como el trimalciato de ergomanina al que se le han dejado caer unas fílulas de cariaconcia. Y sin embargo era apenas el principio, porque en un momento dado ella se tordulaba los hurgalios, consintiendo en que él aproximara suavemente su orfelunios. Apenas se entreplumaban, algo como un ulucordio los encrestoriaba, los extrayuxtaba y paramovía, de pronto era el clinón, la esterfurosa convulcante de las mátricas, la jadehollante embocapluvia del orgumio, los esproemios del merpas

This is a bizarro episode! Today we read a poem in English, and discuss it in Spanish. Here's Stevens' original poem: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/248826 And here's our translation into Spanish: El poema que tomó el lugar de una montaña Ahí estaba, palabra por palabra, el poema que tomó el lugar de una montaña. Él respiraba su oxígeno, Aun mientras el libro se acostaba en el polvo de la mesa. Le recordaba como había necesitado un lugar para ir en su propia dirección, Como había recompuesto los pinos, Desplazado las piedras y hecho su camino por las nubes, Para la vista que sería correcta, Donde estaría completo en una completud sin explicación: La piedra exacta en donde su inexactitud descubriría, por fin, la vista a donde había avanzado, Donde podría acostarse y, contemplando el mar abajo, reconocer su hogar, único y solitario.

In this episode, we read Neruda's "A mis obligaciones." Original text: http://www.poemas-del-alma.com/pablo-neruda-a-mis-obligaciones.htm Translation: To my obligations Doing my job stone by stone, feather by feather, winter ends and leaves abandoned sites, dead rooms: I work and work, I ought to replace all this neglect, fill the darkness with bread, replant hope. It's not for me but the dust, the season's nasty rain, I hold nothing back but all of space and there I work, and work, manifesting spring. I have to give everything to everyone every week and every day, a blue gift, a cold leaf from the forest, and come tomorrow I'm already alive while the others immerse themselves in sloth, in love, I'm cleaning my bell, my heart, my tools. I've got dew for everyone. ==EPISODE NOTES== "Tinieblas" derives from the Latin "tenebrae," which also means darkness. The root, "teme-," produces two almost-antonyms: "temeriario," which means acting rashly, audaciously, imprudently (see "temerity" in English), a

In Episode 2, we read the fable "La oveja negra" by Guatemalan writer Augusto Monterroso. It's super short, so we also provide an English translation, reproduced below. Original text: http://www.ciudadseva.com/textos/cuentos/esp/monte/la_oveja_negra.htm Translation: Long ago in a faraway land there was once a Black Sheep. He was shot and killed. A century later, the repentant flock erected an equestrian statue that looked very nice in the park. And so from then on, any time that black sheep showed up they were promptly executed, so that future generations of common, ordinary sheep would be able to practice sculpture as well. ==EPISODE NOTES== In the episode I wrongly say that this story comes from the book "La oveja negra y otros cuentos" — I conflated 2 books of Monterroso's: "Obras completas y otros cuentos," and "La oveja negra y demás fábulas."

Episode 1! This is where it all begins. We stumble our way through a thorny passage early in Cien Años de Soledad, by Gabriel García Márquez. If you'd like to read along at home, the passage beings at the bottom of page 6 on this site: http://www.quieroleer.com.ar/libros/soledad/6.html ==EPISODE NOTES== In the episode we describe "lirio" as an iris, but after some digging it seems like "lily" is the better translation. This confusion shows up in taxonomy; for example, the iris domestica is commonly called the leopard lily. It's tempting to think the word "lirio" might be a common ancestor for the lily and the iris, but this isn't the case. "Lily" and "lirio" derive from the Latin "lilium," while "iris" is "iris" all the way back to Ancient Greek, where it was the name of the goddess of the rainbow. The word for rainbow in Spanish is arco iris.