Essay: A personal and universal journey towards poetry
/By Mariano Rolando Andrade
“Well, write poetry, for God's sake, it's the only thing that matters.”
e e cummings
Although many might think poetry died away as a force after Auschwitz and the tragedies of the 20th century, this art is going through a strong revival today. Poetry is being rediscovered as one of the most natural and authentic forms of human expression, rescuing readers overwhelmed by data and dry, mathematical approaches to life. The poetic spirit allows us to hear our voices again, a miraculous innovation in the noisy world of cyber communication. Poetry is coming back to rescue words, restoring their original force and value after so much abuse and misuse.
A writer, poet, journalist and translator, I'm currently the editor of Buenos Aires Poetry, a revue created by poet, critic and translator Juan Arabia. My relationship with Buenos Aires Poetry started after a chance discovery a couple of years ago and this was a kind of comeback for me too. After one and a half decades as a news journalist at Agence France-Presse (AFP) in Paris, Brussels and New York City, I had decided to take a sabbatical year and return to my literary roots.
Years ago, I published a book (Los Viajes de Rimbaud, Vinciguerra, 1996) and earned some recognition. But journalism took over. I have nothing to complain about: I’ve had a wonderful career as a correspondent. But for a long time, I have felt a need to return, to be cleansed by poetry, and this break gave me the opportunity to do so. I am now working on a collection of poems about a recent voyage I made in the mythical South Seas and I've completed Beat anthology, which will be released this summer in Spanish. And I was kindly invited to the XII FIP International Festival of Poetry in Buenos Aires, which ran from June 14th to June 18th in the Argentine capital.
This year's gathering saw 35 poets from 17 countries gathering, and I was one of them. It was my first appearance at the event where I got to meet peers from around the world and it provided a unique occasion to read my work in front of a large audience. An original idea of the Society of Writers and Writers of Argentina (SEA), the FIP takes place annually and has become the largest in Argentina, winning international recognition. During its 12 years, the FIP has featured about 400 poets, some of them among the most prominent of our times, including the winner of the Cervantes Prize, Antonio Gamoneda from Spain.
“We want to invite countries that have never been at the festival to introduce their language, culture and traditions to our readers,” Graciela Aráoz, poet and director of the FIP, recently said. This 2017 edition introduced poets from Canada, France, Slovenia, Austria, Brazil, Chile, Cuba, Denmark, Italy, Turkey, Portugal, Uruguay, Ecuador, Netherlands, Finland and Spain, plus a solid representation from Argentina.
That fits in with Buenos Aires’ cosmopolitan and cultural spirit. The FIP, which has opened a School of Poetry and is one of the founders of the World Poetry Movement, is not only about readings and performances in big cultural centers; it's also about bringing poetry to life, in the subway, in popular markets, etc. I was lucky enough to experience this firsthand: on the second day of the festival, I read some of my work to a mixed crowd of local shoppers and neighborhood figures. The scene was reminiscent of the old-time bards reciting poems and epics, except that I was holding a megaphone and reading straight from my mobile phone. I saw the eyes and the ears of the people open, I saw some of them nod or smile, I saw them react to my words, my verses, my emotions, and escape. It's been a return, for sure, but also an epiphany: just like the world seems to have embraced poetry again, I came back to something that had never really vanished after all.
Mariano Rolando Andrade is a poet, a writer and a journalist from Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Escape a Nashville
By Mariano Rolando Andrade
(In Spanish)
Si pudiera llevarte esta noche
lejos de Nueva York.
Correr entre los espirales
de luces y neón de Chinatown,
disfrutando la belleza y el crimen
de huir de la ciudad,
sus bocas de subway atascadas
y los paraguas que se chocan.
Si pudiera subirte a este bus
y dejar atrás los vahos asmáticos
que exhala Manhattan
con sus tuberías monolitos,
los bares con parroquianos
fumando al ritmo de la lluvia,
las peluquerías vacías,
los taxis en cámara lenta.
Si pudiera llevarte lejos,
chapotear en charcos
de esquinas pegajosas
y refugiarnos bajo toldos gastados.
Si pudiera subirte a ese bus
hacia una carretera sin número,
bordeando moteles y gasolineras
borroneadas por tormentas.
Serían cientos
de mojones en la noche,
con las ventanillas empañadas,
acunados en un aire
impregnado de Oriente
y el rumor
de una lengua susurrada
como un poema incomprensible.
No recordarías
ningún cartel, ninguna ciudad.
Apenas decenas de camiones
velando en desolados playones.
El silbido del caucho
en la negrura de Estados Unidos
y nuestras vidas
vertidas sobre el asfalto.
Te despertaría
al primer claror para ver juntos
el perezoso amanecer en Tennessee,
las siluetas de cedros y robles,
las quebradas, los ríos.
Hank Williams en la radio
llenaría de luz
las millas finales a Nashville.
Si pudiera llevarte esta noche
nos perderíamos para siempre
en los bares de Stetsons
de la Broadway del sur.
Los dos,
nuestras vidas derramadas
como una canción
sobre dos amantes olvidados.
Poet Mariano Rolando Andrade reciting his poem "Escape a Nashville" on stage at the FIP International Festival of Poetry of Buenos Aires (June 14-18, 2017). Video credit: Diego Lluma