Thoughts in Progress

When the great Latin American poet Mario Benedetti died in 2009, it was not just a massive blow for my culture, but also for me personally. It was the end of an era, even if his writing – mainly his poetry – has never stopped being popular in my neck of the woods.

Benedetti was and still is intrinsically linked to one of the more exciting periods in my life. He was the reason, after being exposed to his poems, why I took up public poetry-reading as part of an arts collective in the confusing and tumultuous days of mid-90s Havana. We were four friends brought together by a common interest in everything that was challenging and non-mainstream. Although our roles in our creative endeavour overlapped somewhat, we managed to carve out well-defined tasks which we fulfilled with gusto. It was around this time when I began to write in earnest (in Spanish, mind you) and read the fruit of my labour in our monthly rendezvous to fellow anxiety-challenging Cubans. It was then that I first played with the idea of reading Benedetti’s timeless and romance-filled poem “Corazón Coraza” (possible translation, Armoured Heart). But instead of the original in Spanish, I wanted to tackle the version in German that the author himself had performed in the Argentinian movie “El Lado Oscuro del Corazón” (The Dark Side of the Heart).  I admit that I had reservations about the reading, the film having been shown in Cuban cinemas scarcely a couple of years before and becoming very well-known and oft-quoted.

Then, El Maestro passed away seven years ago and I was left with a Benedetti-shaped hole in my life. I had not read poetry in public for almost twenty years. In fact, at the time I was reading very little poetry at all.

Therefore, the clip below is a risk-taking exercise. In it are contained both the thought-out and planned idea of a homage to Benedetti and the impromptu, off-the-cuff, organic nature of poetry-reading.

Of course, if you cannot speak German and you are not familiar with the original in Spanish, an internet-found translation appears right below the video. I will not comment on the quality of the translation because it is very hard to translate poetry, so I usually tend to praise whoever undertakes such task selflessly. The photos are not incidental, nor are they there for any artistic merit (I am not a photographer and I am fine with that). They have a certain personal significance, since the poem, although lover-centred, can also be interpreted in other ways. I straddle two cultures. That means that when I say “Because I have you and don’t”, I might not have a person in mind necessarily.

If you want to see the author performing his own poem in German in the aforementioned film, please, click here.




Because I have you and I don’t,
because I think about you,
because the night is young,
because the night passes and I say love,
because you have come to take your image,
and you are better than all your images,
because you are beautiful from your foot to your soul
because you are good from your soul to me
because you hide your sweet self in pride
small and sweet
armoured heart.

Because you are mine
because you are not mine
because I look at you and I die,
and worse than dying,
if I do not see you, love,
if I do not see you.

Because you are always everywhere,
but you are better where I love you,
because your mouth is blood
and you are cold
I have to love you, love
I have to love you,
even though this wound hurts twice as much
even though I search for you and do not find you
and even though the night passes
and I have you,
and I don’t.

Herz Schutzschild

Weil ich dich habe und nicht

weil ich dich denke,

weil die Nacht offene Augen hat,

weil die Nacht vorüber geht und ich Liebe sage,

weil du gekommen bist um dein Bild abzuholen

und besser bist, als alle deine Bilder,

weil du schön bist von den Füßen bis zur Seele,

weil du gut bist von der Seele zu mir,

weil du dich versteckst, süß in deinem Stolz,

klein und süß,Herz Schutzschild.

Weil du mein bist,

weil du nicht mein bist,

weil ich dich anschaue und sterbe

und schlechter sterbe,

wenn ich dich nicht anschaue, Geliebte,

wenn ich dich nicht anschaue.

Weil du existierst, wo auch immer,

aber besser existierst, wo ich dich liebe,

weil dein Mund Blut ist

und dir kalt ist,

muss ich dich lieben, Geliebte,

muss ich dich lieben.

Auch wenn diese Wunde wie zwei schmerzt,

auch wenn ich dich suche und nicht finde,

und auch wenn

die Nacht vorüber geht und ich dich habe

und nicht.

Mario Benedetti

And a saxo plays. And the prostitute looks at the sailor dumbfounded, bewildered and perplexed.

Weil Ich dich habe, und nicht.

Proximity and distance. Because I have you and I have you not. The dichotomy of Oliverio's life is depicted against a backdrop of poems by Mario Benedetti (the sailor reciting in German), Juan Gelman and Oliverio Girondo. The eternal search for the woman who flies and makes him fly are at the heart of what made El Lado Oscuro del Corazóna strong contender at the 1993 Oscars in the category of Best Foreign Film. The poetry lies, not just in the poems, but in the black and white photography, in the windy and melancholic afternoons of that Buenos Aires of cafés and bordellos, tango and Death. Oh, yes, Death. "¿Ya encontraste a la que vuela?" (Have you found the one who flies?), asks Death. Is she on duty or merely flirting with her victim?

weil ich dich anschaue und sterbe
und schlechter sterbe,
wenn ich dich nicht anschaue, Geliebte,
wenn ich dich nicht anschaue.

And have we not found ourselves in the same position when the power of love chokes us slowly and renders us powerless when we can't see the one we love. Oliverio wants Ana, misses Ana, loves Ana, even though he, at some point, will have to pull the lever, the inevitable lever. Or is it inevitable? One of the elements of El Lado Oscuro del Corazón that I could never bring myself to agree with was the fatalistic attitude about love. You found the one who made you fly, Oliverio, why exchange that for scars? The same scars you'll be showing Death in the final scene. Why? You're battered and bruised, Oliverio, but please, don't pull the lever. Take it from me, one who found the one who flies.

Copyright 2007