And now what are we going to do?
We're going to read.
What are we going to read?
You read this one.
And I'll read the thing.
Wow.
This one you picked, right?
Oh, no, sorry, this one.
OK, we're kind of exploring, folks.
We're exploring.
El diario [INAUDIBLE].
How much of the diario you want to do?
Oh, we're doing the diario.
It's up to you.
That was like the diario for me right there.
You want to do more diario.
It's up to you.
This is one you picked before.
So if you want to do it, we can to another.
Let's go to another.
OK.
Let's see what happens.
Yeah, there's going to be something new.
[GROAN]
[LAUGHTER]
I was remembering César Vallejo, César Vallejo's poetry,
and how complex it is and how he changes things.
And even the language is mixed and explodes on the page.
So that's where this feeling for this title came about.
He makes up words, neologisms.
And there are neologisms all over Akrílica too.
Yeah, he makes up words.
So let's see what happens.
This is the title, "Ella quiere el anillo como aquel quiere el
traje de la cicatriz."
Pero ella quiere el anillo como aquel quiere
el traje de la cicatriz.
Pero yo quiero líquidos de amantes de la música de una
ventana cuando quebra, puertas frescas, esmeraldas, ojos de un
incendio contra el hielo, todo que grita, torsos,
pétalos de una piedra inmortal de
lluvia, piernas de un metálico mar en búsqueda del piso
de fruta, mil Marías con trenzas de relámpago rubí y fusiles.
Ella quiere el anillo como aquel quiere el traje de la cicatriz.
Pero yo quiero rimas moradas de salitre de una celda cuando
despedaza calendario cielos.
La pared cortada con soles, avispas, sotanas, alas de los
acólitos que exploten.
Ella quiere el anillo como aquel quiere traje de la cicatriz.
Pero yo quiero los mil lucios consejas de panal topaz
carrieras.
She wants the ring like he wants the scar suit.
But she wants the ring like that guy wants the scar suit.
But me I want liquid diamonds from the music
of a shattering window.
Fresh emerald doors, a fire's eyes against ice.
Everything that screams the peeling torsos
of an eternal stone of rain, legs of an iridescent sea
in search of a fruited floor.
A thousand Marías with lightning braids, ruby rifles.
She wants the ring like that guy wants the scar suit.
But me I want bruised rinds from the saltpeter of a cell
when she tears apart calendar heavens, the wall cut
with suns, wasps, Catholic wings of the acolytes.
May they detonate.
She wants the ring like that guy wants a scar suit.
But he, 1,000 lucios with honeycombed eyebrows,
topaz jaws.
[APPLAUSE]
Yeah, that was a lot of fun, putting
the word topaz in there.
You got to put little things that you really like.
My mother, her favorite stone was topaz, el topacio.
So it had to go in there.
Things like that, we have favorite things and things
that we remember.
And then you can just bring them out
and you put them on that poem and let it move around.
Yeah.
No, I'm thinking there's something to be thought through
here about the relationship of translation
to the first version where when Juan Felipe worked with us.
He had the same playful sense of discovery and wonderment
in re-encountering his older poems, which
meant he could hand off that property to translators
to re-articulate without a lot of control.
And that's an interesting attitude
to think about in a culture that teaches us maybe
that self ownership is the highest form of achievement.
Juan Felipe approached his work at least with us
with a sense of--
Cool.
Isn't that weird that I put that word in there?
And then you want to put that other word in there.
Great.
You got it right there.
You got me on that one.