Antonio Porchia (–) wrote one book, a slender collection of poetic aphorisms that became a classic in the Spanish-speaking world. With affinities to . ANTONIO PORCHIA. From “Voices”. Some things become such a part of us that we forget them. I want because of what I wanted, and what I wanted, I wouldn’t. Voices by Antonio Porchia, published by Copper Canyon Press, a nonprofit publisher dedicated to poetry, bilingual edition.
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His sole book Voces “Voices” is a collection of aphorisms. Todos llevan a un punto de partida. Set out from any point. They are all alike. They all lead to a point of departure. The trees are alone, the clouds are alone. Everything is alone when I am alone.
Mi cuerpo me separa de todo ser y de toda cosa.
My body separates me from all beings and all things. No hay etro bien. Yes, this is what is good: There is no other good. Would there be this eternal seeking if the found existed? When I look for my existence, I do not look for it in myself. Arrancamos a la vida la vida, para con ella, verla. We tear life out of life to use it for looking at itself. We become aware of voics void as we fill it. Voy perdiendo el deseo de lo que busco, buscando lo que deseo. I stop wanting what I am looking for, looking for it.
Quien busca en su bien un bien mayor, pierde su bien. One who searches for a larger good in his good, loses his good.
Yes, it is porchla to suffer, even in vain, so as not to live in vain. Casi siempre es el miedo de ser nosotros lo que nos lleva delante del espejo. Almost always is it a the fear of being ourselves that brings us to the mirror. You are fastened to them and cannot understand how, because they are not fastened to you. When I am asleep, I dream what I dream when I am awake.
It’s a continuous dream. To wound the heart is voives create it. Porque creo que es orgullo no ser. Yes, I will try to be. Because I believe that not being is arrogant.
Quien se queda mucho consigo mismo, se envilece.
He who remains with himself for a long time, degrades. You do not see antnio river of mourning because porchua lacks one tear of your own. He who makes a paradise of his bread makes a hell of his hunger. Ser alguien es ser alguien solo. Ser alguien es soledad. Being someone is being one alone. Being someone is loneliness. Troubles also pass, as everything passes, antonjo trouble.
Following straight lines shortens distances, and also life. Creo que son los males del alma, el alma. Porque el alma que se cura de sus males, muere. I believe that the soul consists of its sufferings. For the soul that cures its own sufferings dies.
Se puede no deber nada devolviendo la luz al sol. You can owe nothing, if you give back its light to the sun. The fear of separation is all that unites. If we didn’t lose anything during life, we would lose life porchka anything. When you made me into another, I left you with me. No one can help going beyond, and beyond there is an abyss. Con mi encadenamiento a la tierra pago la libertad de mis ojos. I am chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of my eyes. Quien no llena su mundo de fantasmas, se queda solo.
He who does not fill his world with phantoms remains alone. Y si cree ser nada, soporta todo. The less you think you are, the more you bear.
And if you think you are nothing, xntonio bear everything.
Times when I understand myself a little, I understand others less. El amor que no es todo dolor, no es todo amor. The love that is not all pain is not all love. If only I could leave everything as it is, without moving a single star or a single cloud. Oh, if only I could! Y si cuanto encuentras es en cuanto buscas, siempre, en vano encuentras, en vano buscas.
And if you find everything as soon as you look for it, you find it in vain, you look for it in vain. Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly.
You are sad because they abandon you and you have not fallen. Hombres y cosas, suben, bajan, se alejan, se acercan. Todo es una comedia de distancias. Men antono things rise, fall, zntonio away, approach. Everything is a comedy of distances. Aantonio abandonado la indigente necesidad de vivir. I live without it. A veces lo que deseo y lo que no deseo se hacen tantas concesiones que llegan a parecerse.
Nada no es solamente nada. Nothing is not only nothing. It is also our prison. Con las palabras que no he dicho he desarmado mis armas. I would go to heaven, but I would take my hell; I would not go alone. Nada termina sin romperse, porque todo es sin fin.
Nothing ends without breaking, because everything is endless. Y te parece que han dejado de quererte. They have stopped deceiving you, not loving you.
And it seems to you that they have stopped loving you. Quien me tiene de un hilo no es fuerte; lo fuerte es el hilo. He who holds me by a thread is not strong; the thread is strong. When I die, I will not see myself die, for the first time.
Copper Canyon Press: Voices, English translation of poetry by Antonio Porchia
Yo creo que te suicidas. You think you kill me. I think you kill yourself. Mi pesadez viene de los precipicios. My heaviness comes from the heights.
A hundred years die in a moment, just as a moment dies in a moment. Lo justo no me sirve. Whatever I take, I take too much or too little; I do not take the exact amount.
The exact amount is no use to me.
Because they know the name of what I am looking for, they think they know what I am looking for! Una cosa, hasta no ser toda, es ruido, y todo, es silencio. A thing, until it is everything, is noise, and once it is everything it is silence.