Lezama's coinage: tetralegoría.

My Spanish is nowhere near good enough to read Paradiso in the original,
but I've checked into it enough to know that Rabassa's English translation,
even as revised, is seriously stodgy in comparison.

Mark


At 07:15 PM 1/8/2005, you wrote:
>Stunning. I must learn Spanish - he said. I've only looked at Paradiso in
>German & some essays in English, but it's hard going. "Tetrallegory" is
>good - is it in the Spanish or your invention? Might be a good word at a
>cocktail party - "Wagner? Don't you think the clues in his tetrallegory
>are a tad obvious?"
>MJ
>
>Mark Weiss wrote:
>
>>The very same. I wrote a note on L in response to Stephen, but forgot to
>>send it. Should be in the mailbox now.
>>
>>Lezama is beyond wonderful in Spanish. This is a very minor example. With
>>great trepidation I plan to embark on a couple of the (much) longer
>>poems. Here's the only other one I've translated so far, like They Pass
>>through The Night from the book of late pieces published after his death.
>>
>>The Seven Allegories
>>
>>The first allegory
>>is the pig whose teeth are the teeth of stars
>>that fly to their sky of low clouds,
>>the pig laughing in celebration of its double nature,
>>both bacon and laconic questions.
>>
>>After so capricious a sentence the belch of olives.
>>The second allegory
>>is the White Goddess fucking a kangaroo.
>>He gives her the bite
>>which, glorious and painful, defines the bite of lust.
>>It�s the lips that are lustful,
>>the crystal in the dew of Chritmas makes it so.
>>The Inca, on the other hand, wasn�t particularly voluptuous.
>>
>>Next, the other, the supporting allegory.
>>The Wheel of Dew.
>>One�s eye become so transparent
>>it�s as if we were blind,
>>but the Wheel keeps expanding it
>>the dew dilating the foliage like an elephant�s ears.
>>
>>The tetrallegory fills another landing.
>>The smaller it gets the brighter it shines,
>>until it�s become, as now, a dot, a metallic seed.
>>Uniting the splendor and smoothness of surface
>>it reproduces itself in drops of splendor
>>the coupling justified
>>by the birth of those seeds.
>>But this unseen and shining dot
>>is the fruit of the undivided singular.
>>Rain falls on a Roman helmet.
>>The resplendant drop in the groove of Pallas� spear
>>demonstrates the nakedness of her arm
>>and with it she penetrates the rotations of Jupiter.
>>
>>Blown from that great mouth the waters pour forth.
>> From that mouth pours forth the spirit
>>that orders the succession of waves.
>>It is the fifth allegory,
>>like one more guitar string.
>>The allegory of Burning Water.
>>Water pours forth
>>burning shells and roots,
>>containing something of fish and fire,
>>but it pauses to name the breeze
>>carrying it from hut to hut
>>burning the forest at the end of those dances
>>hidden behind each tree.
>>Each tree afterwards will be a speaking fire.
>>There where the flame retreats
>>the first sliver of marble pours forth.
>>The Burning Water demonstrates that image
>>was there before man
>>and that man (but where?) will acquire
>>the Burning Water�s last disguise.
>>Theseus brings the light
>>the allegorical sextant.
>>Light is the first visible of the invisible animals.
>>The light manifests itself,
>>evidence, like an arm
>>penetrating the fish of night.
>>Oh manifest light
>>to the eye the sun�s rival!
>>A felled copse of oaks hides
>>light�s prolongations on the cold mantel
>>with its immutable objects.
>>First and last
>>of manifest things. Theseus
>>facing the inflexible monster
>>carries the evident
>>and manifest light.
>>The shining mantels
>>fall beneath ax blows.
>>
>>Let us return to the tetrallegory,
>>the Metallic Seed.
>>Light searching for the roots
>>of the oaks.
>>Searching for oily resin,
>>touched, because of manifest breath,
>>by manifest light.
>>The Metallic Seed that Licario searched for.
>>In resinous light,
>>gift of the root struck by the ax,
>>the frenzied choral dance begins,
>>the city dancing
>>in a parade of phallic torches.
>>
>>
>>At 06:24 PM 1/8/2005, you wrote:
>>
>>>I'd guess he lives in paradiso, am I right, Mark, thou swell, old bean?
>>>;-) Great poem, I agree.
>>>MJ
>>>
>>>Stephen Vincent wrote:
>>>
>>>>Mark, tho I am not sure how who is fucking who, but I like this poem,
>>>>Who is Lezama? Does he live in Yuma? Where does he grow his peyote?
>>>>
>>>>S
>>>>
>>>>
>>>>
>>>>
>>>>>>And I also remember
>>>>>>someone on this list said that it is not true that languages like Italian
>>>>>>and Spanish need more words than Anglo-Saxon languages in general to
>>>>>>express
>>>>>>the same concept... which is not correct.
>>>>>More that different languages are more or less economical at different
>>>>>moments. So, endings indicatiing size (in Spanish -ito or illo or even
>>>>>itillo, small, or -ote, large) or gender and number often eliminate the
>>>>>need for a string of adjectives. But sometimes create problems of cultural
>>>>>difference or politics.
>>>>>
>>>>>Here's a translation of a poem by Lezama:
>>>>>
>>>>>THEY PASS THROUGH THE NIGHT
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>At midnight a station wagon
>>>>>filled with musicians
>>>>>rattles old stones
>>>>>shot through with silver
>>>>>like the ones I saw
>>>>>when I entered Taxco.
>>>>>The fat actress
>>>>>and the scrawny romeo
>>>>>fall by accident against the door handleï¿œpretentiousness,
>>>>>and they tear out their hair--
>>>>>screams and bells,
>>>>>the flush of a cheek,
>>>>>slide to the roar of the piss
>>>>>of swimming horses, parasols
>>>>>above their inflated haunches.
>>>>>Terrestrial brown
>>>>>and violet flashes
>>>>>boast of the bouncing
>>>>>that the street light once deciphered.
>>>>>A vacant house,
>>>>>theatrically empty,
>>>>>invigorates the passing musicians.
>>>>>And there beyond the carï¿œs window
>>>>>a covetous armï¿œs apostrophe lingers
>>>>>frosted with various feathers.
>>>>>The great hall clock chimes in,
>>>>>bumping into the raucous laughter
>>>>>of those musicians sunk
>>>>>in their ball-fringed pillows.
>>>>>Timeï¿œs tassels,
>>>>>creative as Montecristoï¿œs pistols
>>>>>or the riverï¿œs deflated sperm sacs.
>>>>>And the cock?
>>>>>It spread its legs
>>>>>pointed its finger
>>>>>and crowed
>>>>>in the glow of a cigarette.
>>>>>
>>>>>
>>>>>The line "the fat actress" translates "la cómica gorda. Cómica
>>>>>can also
>>>>>mean comedienne, in its sense as dramatic actress or as stand-up. But in
>>>>>the US women who act have taken to calling themselves "actors," and
>>>>>"comedienne" has become at best an ostentation. Little choice here--the
>>>>>information conveyed by the translation at a minimum has to contain gender
>>>>>and profession. What would one say, "the fat woman actor who might be
>>>>>funny?"
>>>>>
>>>>>Similarly, "galán enlombrizado," translated as "scrawny romeo."
>>>>>Enlombrizado is a neologism based on "lombríz," "worm." I'm
>>>>>guessing that
>>>>>it's meant to mean something like scrwny and smarmy. Galán means a
>>>>>heartthrob (Elvis was a galán), a leading man, a lover, a
>>>>>boulevardier. So
>>>>>it suggests that he plays opposite the cómica, as well as being
>>>>>something
>>>>>of a player (in his own eyes) and her lover. All in the one word. Given
>>>>>the chain of theatrical metaphor in the poem I chose "romeo." It at least
>>>>>conveys smarminess and his sense of his own prowess. The intended comedy I
>>>>>hoped would be contained in the picture of Jack and Mrs. Sprat that's
>>>>>also,
>>>>>it seems to me, being conveyed, but only if one reads enlombrizado to
>>>>>contain scrawny.
>>>>>
>>>>>Translating romance languages I often wish that English, rather than
>>>>>eliminating the genders of most nouns ages ago and currently attempting to
>>>>>get rid of the remainder, had gone in the other direction. Maybe it's time
>>>>>to regender English. And while we're at it, let's restore the
>>>>>thee-thou form.
>>>>>
>>>>>Mark
>>>>
>>>>