Poem
Cristóbal Joannon
Muse
Run your pointless schemes by me again.This is work for incorrigible posers,
chancers who exude SSRIs,
and one can do so little really:
look elsewhere
and let the head go about its work unaided,
join words in ways there never was demand for.
It is truly astonishing how we
persist in this and never call an end.
The world has beauty: that should be enough.
But no, we must cast
our obsolescent grammar over things,
the fraying, unravelling net
a wary octopus could slip right out of.
Surely there is no-one so misguided
as to think this work of ours will be rewarded.
It will not, nor shall we have even
the honour of intoning your vacuities
down the harmless gulleys of Parnassus.
© Translation: 2015, Neil Davidson
Musa
Musa
Confírmame tus inútiles designios.En esta ocupación de siúticos innatos,
de patanes que expelen fluoxetina,
es tan poco lo que uno puede hacer:
mirar hacia otro lado
y dejar que la cabeza haga lo suyo,
juntar palabras que nadie le ha pedido.
Es verdaderamente increíble que uno insista
durante tanto tiempo con lo mismo.
En el mundo hay belleza, eso es suficiente.
Pero no: arrojamos sobre las cosas
nuestra gramática en desuso,
una red gastada y descosida
incapaz de retener a un pulpo temeroso.
Habría que estar muy mal para pensar
que por estas fatigas se recibe recompensa.
Nada de nada pero sobre todo
ni siquiera el honor de cantar tus ripios
en las quebradas inofensivas del Parnaso.
© 2005, Cristóbal Joannón
From: Tabula rasa
Publisher: Ediciones Tácitas, Santiago, Chile
From: Tabula rasa
Publisher: Ediciones Tácitas, Santiago, Chile
Poems
Poems of Cristóbal Joannon
Close
Muse
Run your pointless schemes by me again.This is work for incorrigible posers,
chancers who exude SSRIs,
and one can do so little really:
look elsewhere
and let the head go about its work unaided,
join words in ways there never was demand for.
It is truly astonishing how we
persist in this and never call an end.
The world has beauty: that should be enough.
But no, we must cast
our obsolescent grammar over things,
the fraying, unravelling net
a wary octopus could slip right out of.
Surely there is no-one so misguided
as to think this work of ours will be rewarded.
It will not, nor shall we have even
the honour of intoning your vacuities
down the harmless gulleys of Parnassus.
© 2015, Neil Davidson
From: Tabula rasa
From: Tabula rasa
Muse
Run your pointless schemes by me again.This is work for incorrigible posers,
chancers who exude SSRIs,
and one can do so little really:
look elsewhere
and let the head go about its work unaided,
join words in ways there never was demand for.
It is truly astonishing how we
persist in this and never call an end.
The world has beauty: that should be enough.
But no, we must cast
our obsolescent grammar over things,
the fraying, unravelling net
a wary octopus could slip right out of.
Surely there is no-one so misguided
as to think this work of ours will be rewarded.
It will not, nor shall we have even
the honour of intoning your vacuities
down the harmless gulleys of Parnassus.
© 2015, Neil Davidson
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