from Albricia (1988)[“Gift”]
Translated from the Spanish by Lucas Martínez
I TRAVEL IN MY TONGUE
of swampy sand
two vowels O E
I travel and the borders graze my fine sleeping sand
Inside further inside of the sounding hollow
your vowels my own
in the hoarse moan
I cling to my mollusks Penetrate the papillae
Inside further inside until I reach the rale
The echoing of another tongue I walk it
roam nostalgia I surround it
But what is sent does not arrive with clarity to the skin
What syntax? What landscapes that my eyes did not see?
They want to bloom from those waters
and your tongue my tongue
THE BONES OF THIS PRISON CREAK
I try to open to the rhythm of my abdomen
hollow to the word The waves rear up
from my head I howl I howl
the prison guard fold
of my memory
(my orange guarded by a porous peel)
Nobody entire in this sphere Squeezed
I join Juice liquids that irrigate
my conduits But the cavities pry
seeking the fragrance My smelly orange
squeezed resists but the finger sinks itself in
tearing I open in yellow segments
and I creak this sound in my dismemberment
SATISFY ITS HUNGER
(of essence)
the tongue wants
Violent the palate gathers its desire
pressing my segment that wrings out its secret
my bitter aftertaste wrings The mouth’s corners
filled with unnamable scenes
Sap rises from deep ditches The tongue swirling
attempts to open itself between currents
lukewarm cold
Juice surfaces that twists memory
Clammed shut in the swamp
Leaves and green guides invade
my mind
Unfamiliar stones interlock
in the eyes like nameless gems
replacing pupils rods
of the iris
THIS TONGUE FRAYS
Loose threads dance
like aerial vines
They abandon the scene beyond the lips
(the teeth their guardians)
Sinuous it slides to the chest attending to
throbs from a surface
(an instant insists on throbs)
Perplexed it returns to the scene
rolling up its vines The lips receive
into their prison this tongue’s cavity
silent we remain
(the muddy humus does not coagulate in word)
I OPEN THE SILENT EYELID
I close and spill over inside the eye’s sun
my spirit the soul I look for
between black lichen algae I see my face
float worm-eaten by tongues
There goes that eye like a thirsty mouth What does it look for
Up Down
NO ONE WRITES MY BODY
the nails lament
scattered they cry hands
toes tender like petals
Humid lips sing in a fish’s
gape
my spirit my essence
and the frays return
to gather in memories
by the mouth ajar
Soledad Fariña was born in Antofagasta, Chile, in 1943. She studied at the University of Chile and at the University of Stockholm. She published her first book, El primer libro, in 1985. She participated in the First International Congress of Latin American Women’s Literature in Santiago in 1987. A significant poet in Chile, Fariña has published extensively, including more than 10 books of poetry, with 4 anthologies of her poetic work, and 4 books of essays. She has received many fellowships including the Guggenheim Fellowship in 2006 and the Plagio Prize for Artistic Creativity in 2023 and has been invited to read at universities and book festivals across the globe. Her work has been translated into Catalan, English, French, and Italian. She currently resides in Santiago, Chile.
Lucas Martínez is an artist, teacher, and language worker currently based in Virginia. They have received fellowships from the Virginia Bibliographical Society, the University of Virginia, and the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown MA where they were a fellow in residence in 2024-2025. Lucas has read and led workshops at UVA, the University of Central Arkansas, and at the Wellfleet Public Library. They have translated the work of Nicole Cecilia Delgado, Ulises Carrión, and Soledad Fariña. They translate for Arkansas GRITA. They are a radio DJ at WTJU in Charlottesville and run a monthly film series called Movie Friend. Find out more at lucasmartinez.net