Shalmaran Gabriel Zaid — Wikipedia The motion of the falling leaf, which we naturally picture not as a vertical drop so much as a sketchy sashaying. Your email address will not be published. I went cover to cover in one sitting. Eight lines, each a sentence in the Spanish as well. A Bilingual Collection — Literal Magazine And then the complex action of the third stanza: This biography of a living person needs additional citations for verification. The initial sense of fast upward momentum is countered, stalled for a moment, by the shift in line four.
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Let fly the balloons full of kisses. There goes the world, falling behind. And the depths in the eyes causes vertigo. Get screwed in tight. Let the wind take you. Cast off the slack, jettison the sand. This is different. Eight lines, each a sentence in the Spanish as well. The mode is imperative. A set of commands relating, on the face of it, to taking off from earth in an air balloon. Is this addressed to the world at large, to another person, or is it self-address?
What matters is the directional velocity, the feeling of a translation across boundaries, into a new state, whether this is conceived physically, emotionally, or metaphysically. Again, as with An Abandoned Nocturne, the meanings are driven by the juxtapositions of the various verbs and their actions. But the action is not completely one-directional. The initial sense of fast upward momentum is countered, stalled for a moment, by the shift in line four.
Where it had been the world falling away in the previous line, now it is the image of the depths of a pair of eyes—eyes looked into—which causes a sensation of vertigo, commonly understood as dizzy and downward sensation. All of this is compressed into eight short and relatively simple lines. The subject matters of the 42 poems in this collection vary—some are more lyric, others more spiritual, and still others satiric—but their procedure is recognizably that of a single sensibility.
Here is a poet who favors both simple imagistic compression, using for his images mainly the materials of the natural order though here and there an automobile or an elevator will appear , and the dynamic expansions and shifts of perspective made possible by inventive juxtapositions.
The final effect, of the individual poems as well as of the book, is of an outward movement, at times that of slow natural growth and at other times of explosion. It is a momentum of possibility, opening out. When I had finished reading and pondering, I turned to see what Octavio Paz had written in Cambridge, Massachusetts in —just down the road from where I am now, but nearly 40 years ago.
Zaid is a religious and metaphysical poet, but also—or rather therefore—a poet of love. In his love poems, poetry functions once again as a force with the power to transfigure reality. He will publish his tenth book next year with Graywolf Press. El libro es corto, como los poemas. Y su frase viene a cuento si se habla de la obra de Zaid. El poema nos deja como en vilo, vacilantes sobre nuestro eje. Subir globos llenos de besos.
Cogerse desesperadamente. Ser arrastrados por el viento. Soltar arena, perder peso. Esto es diferente. El modo es imperativo. No lo sabemos. Y no estoy seguro de que ello importe.
Tal es, si puedo generalizar, el estilo de Zaid o, para abreviar, su modus operandi. Se trata de un momentum de posibilidades, de apertura. Featured Articles.
THE SELECTED POETRY OF GABRIEL ZAID. A Bilingual Collection
Let fly the balloons full of kisses. There goes the world, falling behind. And the depths in the eyes causes vertigo. Get screwed in tight.
The Selected Poetry of Gabriel Zaid
In his love poems, poetry functions once again as a force with the power to transfigure reality. This transfiguration is not change or transformation but rather an unveiling, a stripping: reality is presented as it is. Nothing is stranger than seeing things as they truly are. The reality of the presence of the beloved is a reality tainted by time; the bodies we love, while not losing their reality, suddenly show us a new side. I am not the water or the rudder: one who sings the song, no other.
Poemas de GABRIEL ZAID