Photo courtesy of Laura Petrecca

For the third in our collaborative series with Palabras Errantes, the Indy profiles young Argentine poet Laura Petrecca.

Laura was born in Buenos Aires in 1985 and grew up in the neighbourhood of Retiro. She started to write seriously while she was studying cinema and published her first collection of poetry, ‘Pensó que ya lo sabía’ in 2008.

Two years later she published her second book, ‘Los Barcos vuelven’, and has continued to contribute poetry and prose for magazines in Mexico and France. She currently lives in Paris.

How did you begin your career as a writer?

I started to write while I was studying cinema in Buenos Aires. I suppose more than anything I felt fortunate that– compared to working in film studios - I was able to make something autonomously, without money, people or long term plans.

Writing has a kind of instantaneous pleasure – like painting or photography – because it’s something that can be produced quickly. Gradually, writing became my main interest and it still is.

As with most of the things I really want to do, there’s never much forward thinking or planning; the desire and the action take place at the same time and just work themselves out – I couldn’t imagine it being any other way. For the time being, I know that writing is probably what I like doing the most but I try not to speculate too much, I simply try to do.

Photo courtesy of Laura Petrecca

Are there any subjects that reappear often in your work?

I think rather than there being recurring themes, there are spaces, images and atmospheres that reappear in what I write. I’m aware of this and sometimes I do write the same thing but in different ways - with different versions and in different times. I recognise there is something specific I am looking for.

I think that’s the only way I can describe it, because I never start writing knowing that I’m going to write about this or that. I don’t have a plan, I find my way as I go along. That’s the thing I like most about certain types of poetry; when I work on short, condensed texts, an overriding theme emerges in the collection when they’re put together – the unity appears in the book rather than the individual poem.

How did you find the translation process?

The translation process was very rewarding for me. I was lucky enough to meet my translator, Cherie Elston, on a trip, and from then on we kept in touch by email.

What surprised me, and what I found most exciting, was that in her translation there was a type of rewriting that came about through interpretation and a deep understanding of the material. The poems I sent off went through a new creative process and I think that’s the most stimulating aspect of translation- especially poetry translation. You have to go beyond a mere faithfulness to the original to get the content across; literal translation isn’t enough if you want to create the same effect in a second language. People say that something is lost in translation but I feel the opposite; that through good translation the text gains something, and for that I’m very grateful.

Below are three untitled poems by Laura Petrecca, with translation by Cherie Elston

The black burns
extinguish within

ignited with milk
by the sound of the race

what are these faces tattooed with threads
but all those years in a foreign city?

where cold rusts
like sulphur on bridges,
like a girl turning
like that which you seek,

lost in the open strokes of possibility
saving with apples the perforations in the raft

the water below, waits above
and the dam rises in a submarine elevator

and is this your doubt, the same that goes down?

—-

I see the star revolve
retreat above the mute roofs

it does not exist as doubt does not exist
when the celestial mattress ties me

and I believe I see but above all I want
to know the nerve fertilizing the legs
imagine the dexterity of the virgin’s flight

to think that I above him opening me
in plastic bottles
still preserve a masculine offering
which is what makes him feel close to me

and he says it, occasionally,
I listen to him as he listens to me
beneath the perfect ending

—-

Facing the dog’s mouth
the sound is always the same

the same voice, the song that falters

like when you slept,
squashed against glass,
crowned with bees in a private plan

like he who smiles in the floor that opens up
who knows something more
because he defends the arms that fall

and smiling, therefore
is inevitable

as it is also inevitable
not to dream during war

and embracing the stomach of a panther
knowing,

curling yourself around her
bound to the warmth of the fur

where yes your father lived

Photo courtesy of Gabriel Cortinas

In collaboration with Palabras Errantes we continue our four part series of poet profiles with Gabriel Cortiñas.

Born in Buenos Aires in 1983, he currently works as a poet and a literature teacher in primary and secondary schools.

His first book of poetry, ‘Brazadas’, was published in 2007. His second, ‘Hospital de Campaña’, won last year’s international Margarita Hierro poetry prize in Spain.

As well as writing poetry reviews and interviews for various websites he also co-runs the online magazine ‘La Literatura del Pobre’ - a website that encourages poetry exchange between Spain and Argentina.

Have you always wanted to be a writer?

When I was little I didn’t want to be – not that I consider myself a ‘writer’ these days either – but I didn’t dream about being one; I wanted to be a football player like any young boy.

I started writing, more or less, when I was secondary school - I used to write prose, poetry and songs. There wasn’t a moment of revelation when I said to myself, “I want to be a poet” or anything like that.

When you write you feel as if you have got something to say – whether it is valid or not – but you should stop writing when you think you’ve got nothing to say. Right now I do have plenty to say but who knows how it will be in ten years time?

How would you describe your poetic style?

It’s difficult, because I find that when a writer wants to define his aesthetic, either consciously or unconsciously, he ends up putting his foot in it. What I would say is that I don’t write narrative poetry. There is a narrative in what I write, but it’s a hybrid narrative and it plays with broken syntax.

Someone once told me that there are two types of poetry: poetry you read under your breath and poetry you read out loud. I don’t know if I manage it but I try to write poetry that can be read out loud. By this I don’t mean poems that can be read at recitals, I mean poetry that has to do with the outside world, everything that takes place around you, and the sound of the spoken word. My poetry isn’t all about the ‘me’ and self-reflection, it draws more from the public domain.

I don’t know if I would define it as urban, but everyone writes about what goes on in their lives. What I write about is connected to what goes on in my life, and it is lodged in a certain place and time. I live in a city, I go to work everyday, I travel by bus and that all obviously feeds what I write.

How did you find the process of having your poems translated?

There was a lot of dialogue between me and Chris Schafenacker because the translator’s job isn’t easy.

When you have a narrative poem that tells a story in verse – it might be difficult to capture the sounds and everything but translation is possible. But when you’ve got poetry that breaks the syntax up and jumbles the words around, it gets tricky. That sort of poem requires a translator who is really dedicated to the work.

There was one sentence that was particularly difficult to translate because it played with a local saying. And I told Chris: “Look, what I was trying to say was this, and I did in such a such a way but this is also a specific saying.” And one way or another, he had to find another saying in English that means something similar and incorporate it. At that point it’s not so much a translation as an interpretation - and it was amazing what he did - he had to rewrite it really.

It can be strange reading yourself in another language though, especially when you don’t understand some of the words!

Extract from ‘Hospital de Campaña’

Translation by Chris Schafenacker, courtesy of Palabras Errantes

You can’t make flour out of helmets

they roasted the enemy but ate him raw

his gold tooth burst in their belly

patiently, they ground teeth, picked at them

made tortillas: out of corn, out of rice

tortillas made of potatoes, made of molars.

The tooth’s shine threatens to tear loose

light doesn’t digest in the belly

a sliver that splits the eardrum in four.

If the vanguard doesn’t cover you: the buzz

the explosion. Everyone in their seats

awaiting the start of the fight.

He closes upon the mat like a budding flower

(budding flowers don’t explode)

it is forbidden to wear a watch.

When his father fell in the jungle

he passed on his watch before dying.

He now caresses it under his pillow

will melt it for copper in a pawn shop

his old lady will forgive him

that time no longer exists.

There were still puddles in the street

he opened a window and tossed out something eternal

to be named after the fall,

car, salary, sidewalk: Justice

the third crossbreed dream, crossbreed harmony

—interpret—

—interpret—

the leaves scattered by the after class struggle.

A small mud statue on his bedside table

that he spits on every night

little idol deforms, mutates, day after day

brought it from Tucumán

dressed it as a soldier, prays to it, spits on it

every night:

muddied must red wine saliva

caked on.

Olguín prays to a dead father drowned in saliva

anoints him with a loogie

hawks up seeds, germinated must

wine flowers grow on his face

constantly deformed by water, saliva

prays to him ever night

a thick loogie

myth let loose in formless mud

once seen surrounded by corn, his face

never stopped laughing.

On a mountain

full of carbon full

of oil wells

the Scotsman won’t surrender, continues shooting

like a maniac on high

continues shooting: blistering chickenpox

doesn’t know that his bullets carry an implicit pact

spoken pact inside each bullet

in disbandment retreat one must wait

while the scorched tree grows

the tree bearing fruit wrapped in the pink skin

of the frenulum.

A cows tongue rotting in the sun

is all that’s left to eat

the flies

pick the tongue apart, in the jungle

salt gets at everything: pork jerky

bull jerky, duck jerky, no

ducks are always swimming

in pots of boiling water

duck, parrot, canary, hen

the broth is a blood pact boiling

that chills the corn, the beans, the teeth

salt gets at everything, a cows

tongue rotting in sun

the flies are a part of the deal.

As part of the Indy’s month-long celebration of Argentine literature, we look at the work of Palabras Errantes- a literary translation project that is currently working with previously untranslated Argentine poets.

Cherie Elston, coordinator of Palabras Errantes

The project aims to provide a glimpse into the cutting edge world of contemporary Argentine poetry, while encouraging debate about the merits and challenges of translation.

Working with Palabras Errantes in a collaborative series, the Indy will be bringing you four profiles and four translations over the next four weeks.

Cherie Elston, coordinator of Palabras Errantes, spoke to the Indy about where the idea came from.

The project shares a website with Pulsamerica, an organisation providing weekly updates on Latin American news in English. Cherie explains that both the news site and the literary project emerged from the same desire to get more Latin American content into English language media.

“When Ben (the editor of Pulsamerica) was in Argentina last year, he thought there was so much going on - so much content that will never reach an English language audience,” she says. “We wanted to find a variety of aesthetic styles that otherwise wouldn’t get translated into English.”

The idea is to give an English-speaking audience the opportunity to learn about the depth and complexity of Latin American literature by translating the work of a diverse selection of writers from across the continent.

This goal extends to include writers who might be overlooked by the bigger publishing houses: “I find it frustrating when you look at the same old stuff produced by the major publishers and they perpetuate stereotypes on certain discourses on Latin America,” says Cherie. “It would be interesting to look at different texts being produced and not just texts that look at violence, for example.”

Last year, Palabras Errantes translated the work of female Uruguayan writers and presented the work.

Argentina is the second country Palabras Errantes has worked with. Last year the project translated the work of female Uruguayan writers, which is now being turned into an e-book for free download. This year they turned their attention to Argentine poetry.

The process seems simple: Cherie searches out interesting writers from around the country, engages in a dialogue with them and, with the help of professional volunteers, translates their work and publishes it on Palabras Errantes’ website.

“The problem with the Argentine project was that there are too many poets!” she explains. Unlike the previous project, which involved selecting writers from a relatively small pool, this time around they had to deal with an abundance of poets on the Argentine scene. “There’s an awful lot going on with poetry in Argentina,” she adds.

The network of writers she works with has grown, and continues to grow, through word of mouth. Faced with the challenge of penetrating literary circles from across the Atlantic, Cherie relies on recommendations from the few contacts she started with in order to cast the net as wide as possible.

“Every time I contact a writer I ask them to recommend other writers,” she says. And inevitably some people recommend friends or acquaintances but eventually, as more and more people get involved, the network grows and enough writers of merit emerge.

Palabras Errantes logo

“This project isn’t defining the Argentine scene,” she stresses, “it’s simply showcasing some of the writers who are working there. What I wanted to do was show the variety of styles coming out of contemporary Argentine poetry.”

Since the project is one of translation, finding the writers is only the first step- translating the work comes next - and translating poetry is no mean feat. It involves getting to the core of what language really is. When you write a poem, you use words as imprecise building blocks - you paint a picture, convey an idea and provoke an emotional response.

When you translate a poem, it’s not necessarily the words themselves that you have to capture, but the underlying image or idea. The translators need to have a strong understanding of the nuances of both languages, but they also need to be able to think and write like a poet in the English language first.

Cherie accepts that in translation there will always be a sacrifice but warns that in poetry the sacrifice is all the more evident. “If you are trying to capture a concept, an image, a metaphor, a rhythm and a rhyme, something will inevitably be lost. But that doesn’t mean there is nothing to be gained,” she says. The aim of projects like Palabras Errantes is to make the transition between one language and the other as seamless as possible.

The poets selected for translation by the Palabras Errantes project will be gradually published on their site over the coming weeks. We begin the ‘Palabras Errantes: Poet Profiles’ series with a profile of the poet Mercedes Araujo and an accompanying translation from her poem ‘The life of butterflies’.

Along with Buenos Aires’ nomination as UNESCO’s World Book Capital for 2011 came a symbolic acknowledgement of Argentina’s commitment to the countrywide promotion of literature and reading.

Inside Argentina's iconic National Library (Photo: Tanoka)

Between last April and the coming April then, when Armenia’s capital Yereven will take over the title, we might reasonably expect to see some well-deserved promotion of home-grown authors, a hopeful boom in translation and a peaked interest in the country’s national literature. But with the exception of a few big-name cards, Argentina keeps her hand close to her chest with remarkable modesty.

Launching this Thursday, The Argentina Independent’s new ‘Beyond Borges’ series brings you a selection of the best known poets, essayists, short story writers and novelists whose writing has influenced and shaped the course of Argentine and Latin American literature.

In bi-weekly installments, we’ll introduce you to some of Argentina’s most-loved writers and landmark texts; beginning with the romantic writers and gauchesque poets of the 19th century and continuing through the heavyweights of 20th century literature, right up to some award-winning present day writers and those tipped as ones to watch.

Our ‘Beyond Borges’ series not only offers the opportunity to discover new authors and even genres you might not have read before, but also promises an enjoyable and more subconscious insight into the historical events and cultures that have shaped present day Argentina– without picking up a single history book!

So feel free to dip in and out of this new series, exploring our collection of Argentina’s most interesting and influential writers. For those of you who find yourselves with a budding interest in local literature but don’t know beyond Borges - this one’s for you.

So you are in Buenos Aires for a long-term stay and decided to apply for a job. As soon as your CV gets within arms length, reality strikes: it is in English and you need to translate it into a language you might not entirely dominate. After various failed attempts and particularly long Google translate sessions, the task becomes almost infuriating.

But if you can’t tell the difference between work experience and a work placement, and if you have no clue of their Spanish synonyms, don’t panic. The Audiovisual Translation staff may save the day.

As the name implies, Audiovisual Translation is a small company specialised in translating the audiovisual world. Run by Argentine literary, technical and scientific translator Janice Winkler and audiovisual specialist Simone Calbi from the US, it offers a wide variety of services. From TV, documentary and film scripts to adverts and websites, Audiovisual Translation’s main feature is that of a multifaceted, cross-cultural business. And their newest addition - CVs and resumes consultation and translation - looks most promising.

Language: a cultural surrounding

When Janice translated and adapted Simone’s and contributor William Wright’s resumes, the idea morphed into a new project. It soon became apparent that expats struggle when introducing themselves and communicating their knowledge to potential employers. And, as Janice and Simone explain, this is not a problem exclusively for non-Spanish speakers.

In fact, CVs and resumes vary enormously according to the country and the predominant usage or style. Therefore, translations might as well be necessary to adapt a Colombian Spanish CV to an Argentine Spanish version and vice versa. As Janice explains, it is a matter of formats and of giving “importance to the language as a cultural surrounding”.

For example, did you know “college” is a synonym to “university” in the US but refers to a tertiary level in the UK? Or have you noticed that in Argentina every CV must present an applicant’s photograph? As Simone clarifies, to someone from the US this would ring discrimination alarm bells, given the country’s history.

Hence, Audiovisual Translation is not about merely translating words, but keeping the essence and uniqueness of each client and their cultural background within a new cultural and linguistic perspective. Therefore, the first step to a successful resume is the consultation stage.

Clients can contact Janice and Simone and schedule a free of charge interview. The idea is to get to know them and specify the services they require. They will come up with a personalised and suitable plan, bearing in mind their client’s full requirements.

Resumes may need a format adaptation, a complete translation or restructuring. They might as well be created and written from scratch. And, as far as the linguistic aspect is concerned, possibilities are endless. The final outcome will vary depending on the customer’s profession, personality, trajectory, nationality and potential employers.

Additionally, it’s not just about resumes or immediate presentations. If the client’s profession and interests demand it, Janice and Simone will also build their blogs, write a biography or confection a portfolio that is appealing and suitable for a specific market.

An on-going learning process

Janice worked on her own as a translator from 2006 to 2007, specialising in TV and film productions. With time she realised the need for a native eye to ensure the accuracy of her work. That was when William Wright stepped in, later succeeded by Simone Calbi.

They have worked both with the independent circuit and with mainstream productions with a consistent professional stance: their main focus is people and not just documents. They understand the importance of a collaborative perspective on translations and regard their work as a “constant learning process”.

Above all, Audiovisual Translation stands out for its young, enthusiastic and creative take on translations. Most importantly, they offer customized services which adapt to their clients’ needs. This criterion is effectively reflected in the range of services they provide.

So how do they manage to even out cultural and linguistic differences? Audiovisual Translation embraces them. In Janice’s words, the secret is to “never, ever, be literal”. Success guaranteed.

On my first few days in Argentina, I stayed at Milhouse Hostel on Avenida de Mayo in Buenos Aires; a melting pot of different people from all over the globe, high on life, passing through the city on their South American tours.

Many had amazing stories, but none more tragic or more romantically nauseating than Jernej, a 25-year-old gay man from Slovenia who fell in love with a Chilean dancer known as Emelio in Santiago. The forlorn look strewn across Jernej’s face when I first met him was enough to let me know that he had a case of the blues.

In the wake of their whirlwind romance, Jernej struggled with longing for his South American soul mate and proceeded to tell me that he wanted to send Emelio a message. However, the only real sweet-nothing he had full command of in Spanish was ‘my heart beats for you’. He needed me to translate. We sat down at my laptop and Jernej began reeling of his emotions one by one for me to render into Spanish and by the end of the message, I was moved, if not slightly revolted by the sickly letter of cheese that I was about to send.

Never in a million years had I expected my first week in Argentina to turn out this way. There I was, in a truly international hostel, translating Jernej’s love letters like some sort of 21^st century Shakespearean messenger. Somewhere, across the Argentine-Chilean border, there was a friend of Emelio’s, translating messages from Spanish into English for Jernej. I felt their pain.

But the course of true love never did run smooth. After a few heart-breaking exchanges, the situation turned sour when Jernej discovered that Emelio secretly had a boyfriend living in Chile and that their four days of love and deep spiritual connection boiled down to a dramatic affair.

Being in Buenos Aires, friends and I decided to try and cure Jernej’s bruised heart with a variety of local remedies; fernet and coca cola, Quilmes and one terrible bottle of Malbec at some of Milhouse’s famous parties. Forgive and forget, I always say and if that amount of alcohol doesn’t make you forget, I don’t know what will. Nonetheless, Jernej left a couple of days later with a smile on his face at having made some friends in Buenos Aires and I left Milhouse hostel a few days after him, feeling like I had just stepped out of the twilight zone. A very bizarre and surreal introduction to South America, indeed.