Can’t all poets? A poem by Amparo Arróspide Translated from Spanish, Audio Robin Ouzman Hislop

* A poem by Amparo Arróspide, from “En el oído del viento” (Baile del Sol, 2016). Hers and Robin Ouzman´s translation.

Can’t all poets
get a PhD in synesthesia
by the University of Columba in New York?

Can´t they harvest medallions under the moon?

Can´t they work as professors of Punic Sciences?
As kindergarten teachers, can´t they work?

Can´t they afford to pay for
their third self-published volume?

Can´t all poets live on air?

Can’t they rummage, deconstruct , snoop
build for themselves a submerged house
inhabit a crystal palace?

Can´t they repeat over and over the unsaid
incite questions of ethical and aesthetic weight
dismantle and fragment reality?

Can´t they translate their 14th century Chinese
concubine colleagues?
Can´t they receive writing
from a yearning and swift
From a primordial nothingness?

Can´t they mortgage their crystal palace
their submerged house?
Can´t they rebelliously peddle little stars?

Can´t all poor poets steal books?
Can´t they read so
the complete works by Samuel and Ezra and John
by Juana Inés, Alejandra and Gabriela
by Anne and Margaret and Stevie
by Wallace and Edgar and Charles
by Arthur and Paul and Vladimir
by Dulce and Marina and Marosa?

And etcetera and etcetera and etcetera and etcetera?

Can´t all poets
add more beauty to beauty
and more horror to horror?

Can´t they draw maps and routes
of the invisible, futuristic city
foretold by their dreams?

Can´t they pursue the intangible
Move towards permanence
so that a poem
becomes a closed and completed vehicle
to treasure a present without behind or beyond?

Can’t they unfold and transmigrate
can’t they achieve mindfulness
Can´t they stammer forever
into everlasting silence?

¿Todos los poetas no pueden
obtener un doctorado en sinestesia
por la universidad de Columba en Nueva York?

¿Cosechar medallones bajo la luna?

¿Trabajar de catedráticos de ciencias púnicas
trabajar de maestras jardineras?

¿No pueden costearse la tercera autoedición?
¿Vivir del aire?

¿No pueden hurgar, deconstruir, fisgonear
construirse una casa sumergida
habitar un palacio de cristal?

¿Reiterar una y otra vez lo no dicho
incitar preguntas de peso ético y estético
desarticular y fragmentar la realidad?

¿Traducir a concubinas chinas del siglo XIV?

¿No pueden recibir la escritura desde un vacío originario
anhelante y veloz?

¿Hipotecar palacio y casa sumergida,
traficar estrellitas, rebelarse?

¿Robar libros por pobres?
¿Leer así
a Samuel a Ezra a John
a Juana Inés a Alejandra a Gabriela
y a Joyce a Anne a Margaret
a Wallace a Edgar a Charles
a Arthur a Paul, Vladimir
a Marina a Dulce a Marosa?

¿Y a etcétera y etcétera y etcétera y etcétera?

¿No pueden
agregar más belleza a la belleza
y al horror, más horror?

¿Trazar mapas y rutas
de la ciudad invisible, futurista
que sus sueños predicen?

¿Acosar lo inapresable, moverse
en seguimiento de lo fijo, el poema
como vehículo cerrado y concluso
para atesorar un presente sin detrás ni más allá?

¿No pueden desdoblarse, transmutarse
no pueden extrañarse, balbucearse
y enmudecer al fin?


Amparo Arróspide (from En el oído del viento (Baile del Sol, 2016)


Amparo Arrospide (Argentina) is a Spanish poet and translator. She has published seven poetry collections, Mosaicos bajo la hiedra, Alucinación en dos actos algunos poemas, Pañuelos de usar y tirar, Presencia en el Misterio, En el Oido del Viento, Hormigas en Diáspora and Jaccuzzi, as well as poems, short stories and articles on literary and film criticism in anthologies and in both national and foreign magazines.
She has received numerous awards. Editor’s Note: see also Poetry, National Literature Prize 2018, Francisca Aguirre, Translated from Spanish by Amparo Arróspide & Robin Ouzman Hislop
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; his publications include
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules and Next Arrivals, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
You may visit Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Reducto Anagramatico Sunday Afternoon 1915 Wallace Stevens. Poem Excerpt from Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems by Robin Ouzman Hislop


reducto anagramatico sunday afternoon 1915 wallace stevens
come give balm to the gusty grieving
nights to hush day green the seas
for her dark oranges bloom an
indifferent inhuman evening
of cherished comfort and wings
like wide complacencies
but next moves in mythy gat motions
among any hind’s heaven or paradise
& cries cause the sun’s littering
our afterwards river sky relinquish
the mountains and whistle in her porch
death still the imperishable inescapable
for receding boughs to wear sleeplessly
the sun colours to hang of sky bosom
serafin plum the perfect rivers the hills
the lay sky paths that live impassioned
upon grass phrases in extended cries over
her peignoir and coffee upon blood calm

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems and translations from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae (the award winning XIII Premio César Simón De Poesía). In November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds, UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020.
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at . You may visit Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his
work Performance (University of Leeds)


go go go
there’s no grail in the grainy day
i’m so tired of stirring glue
one more time lady of the night
go go go i’m outta sight
power plays with psychopathy
what’s left of words our pathology
i took my baby down to MeJico
the place you know you go go go
i’m so tired of stirring glue
& tomorrow’s just another shoe
where there’s no lack for being strange
where the world’s already twisted & maimed
one more time lady of the night
what’s gonna make it through & through
we’ll all be dead at the sight of you
go go go i’m outta sight
we’re pathologically psychotic
you can put it got it got it
our words blasted in the thunder
& tomorrow’s rainbow’s no penumbra
where psychopathy plays the one number
kick arse this world so full of shite
come on down lady of the night
go go go i’m outta of sight
i’m so tired of stirrring glue
we’ll all be dead at the sight of you
holocaust plague & famine too
the map’s rotting over the ruins
words turn to bones in their tombings
like waxwork effigies we melt in the blue
i’m going down to MeJico
you know the place you go go go
come on down lady of the night
i’m gonnna dance with you outta sight
we’re on a wave that’s gonna disappear
a field that evaporates in thin air
then suddenly again you’re standing there
dancing with time forever there
come on down lady of the night
i’m gonna dance with you outta sight

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at . You may visit Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)