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By Olvido García Valdés
Translated by Catherine Hammond
The spider wove the threads of her clothes
the threads of the night.
I carry your name and your shadow
is my voice but your heart was not mine,
dark patch of oil that I reach for and nearly
perceive. Children, husband, rude behavior, common
names, they resemble fate, women
people know. Closed-off
odor of the olive tree, grief and anger
seized at intervals, heart. I listen
from a distance, you shadow, which cloud
settled where you were.
(Translator's note: Olvido García Valdés does not use titles, but does indicate the beginning of a poem by using a bold font.)
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Read Catherine Hammond's introduction to this poem.
Olvido García Valdés is a recipient of Spain's National Poetry Prize for her book Y todos estábamos vivos. The author of numerous collections of poetry, she is also the translator of works by Pier Paolo Pasolini and Anna Akhmatova.
Catherine Hammond holds a BA in Spanish (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor) and an MFA in creative writing (Arizona State University.) Her translations of Olvido García Valdés’ poetry appear or are forthcoming in Mid-American Review, FIELD, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Drunken Boat, Cerise, Seneca Review, and Words Without Borders.
Original text: Olvido García Valdés, Y todos estábamos vivos. Barcelona: Tusquets Editores, 2006.