Des
Miña lingua le saca la lengua al disionario
baila uma cumbia insima dus mapa
i fas com a túnica i a moña
uma cometa
pra voar
livre i solta pelu seu.
Onse
Artigas e uma terra pirdida nu Norte
qui noum sai nus mapa.
Disenove
El río Cuareim camiña nus fundo
asvés canta, asvés dorme.
Camiña pra abajo i se vai
asta noum sei onde.
Los peye som livre i yo ayo que se van con el río
se van pra onde ele termiña
dis que es nu mar
um lugar aonde la agua noum toca la tierra.
Vintisiete
El bairro ya no es u mesmo.
Las casa siguen igual
mas sin la yente.
El almasén del Brasilero feyó
el bar del Carlito agora es un clú dus blanco.
No veyo
como naquele tempo
os gurí inyendo las vereda.
Los día de reye era um inferno.
A mim sempre me tocava
un balde i uma pala pra brincá na playa
mas nou avía playa.
Yo fasía un buraco i enyía dagua
i aí brincava de istá na playa.
Al Jorjito sempre le tocava juguete de pila
i asvés me imprestava.
Como yo soñava ser chofer del Cotúa
agarrava las tapa das panela de mi madre
i saía por la vereda maneyando.
Andava a cavalo num pau de vasora
yo no tiña una cabesa de cavalo como el Jorjito
que sua main compró in Cuaraí.
El Jorjito tiña muchos juguete i me imprestava.
Yo no tiña pra imprestá
mas él me imprestava igual.
Vintioito
Antes
fas mucho tiempo
los visiño se ayudavan.
Como la ves aqueya
que se prendió fuego la casa del Correa.
Todos ayudamo sacá las cosa pra la vereda
mientras la Mama yorava i gritava
se batendo nu peito.
Dispós todos ayudemo limpá
i cada um fue trasendo alguna coisa.
Hasta nu bar du Carlito fiserum rifa.
Otra ves
cuando el Julio teve quir
se operá in Montivideu
i la María pasó como un mes solita
con todo us gurí
los visiño fiserum partido de fúbol
i la entrada era cualqué cosa que la yente pudese dar.
Yo me lembro
la tarde que yegó el carro de cabayo del Lula
carregadiño de cumida i de ropa.
Los hombre descarregavan
i las mujer ayudavan a ordená las cosa.
Asvés yo volto pasá nu barrio
mas ya noum e como antes,
agora no anda nadie nas vereda
i as porta sempre están feyada.
Sincuentioito
Cuando uno es pobre
i eu so pobre
no puede isquesé de aonde viene.
Asvés yo voi na carnisería
veo el Luisito trabaiando
él me atiende
i yo quero le desir
tú te lembra Luisito
cuando nos iva nel río
casá vieja del agua
i havía unas
que no largavan las pedra
o cuando nos robava guayavo
da casa da veia Nilda
i ívamos na tua casa
pra cumé guayavo con asúcar
pero él ni me oia.
Después que me da las cosa
dis muchas grasia, el prósimo…
i eu noun sei si ele no se lembra
o no se quiere lembrá.
O la Silvana
que se foi pra Montivideu
istudiá pra maestra
un día yo crusé con eya nel sentro
ela me miró
i yo levanté la maun pra saludá
i eya deu volta la cara
i se foi.
El que sí se lembra de tudo
es el Manuel
asvés lo veyo sentado por aí
tomando mate
nos botamo a falá daqueles año
i nos matemo de risa.
Qué amigo el Manuel
ese sí no teve sorte
anda camiñando por las caye
sin trabajo i sein familia.
El Manuel se lembra da su sorte.
Noite du Norte
Fabián Severo
Fabián Severo is an Uruguayan poet, born in 1981. Severo is from Artigas, the largest Uruguayan town on the border and he writes in Portunhol, the language of the Uruguayan frontier with Brazil. Writing in Portuñol is a literary and political movement that exists on both sides of the frontiers of Spanish-speaking countries and Brazil but for Severo, the decision to write in Portuñol is a deliberate, provocative, and unusual choice. He is the only Uruguayan writer doing so. He does it to establish the validity of his culture and native language in a country where, until recently, the government put up billboards on the border that said, “Parents: Speak to Your Children in Spanish!” This theme of a dominant culture and language pressing down on people who live on the border is one of the many ways Severo’s work echoes the issues of assimilation on the U.S. border with Mexico, or wherever in the United States an immigrant culture rubs up against the “official" English language.
Fabián Severo (b. Artigas, Uruguay, 1981) is a literature teacher and writing workshop coordinator. He is the author of the books Noite nu Norte (2010), Viento de nadie (2013), NósOtros (2014), and Vira-lata (2015). His poems have appeared in magazines in Brazil, Argentina, Cuba, Spain, and the United States including Words Without Borders and Poetry. His work appears in América invertida: An Anthology of Emerging Uruguayan Poets (University of New Mexico Press, 2016). In 2017, he received the Uruguayan National Prize for Literature for his novel Viralata. In 2012, he received the Justino Zavala Muniz Fellowship in the Arts from the Uruguayan Ministry of Education and Culture and in 2011, he was awarded the Bronze Morsoli Award for Poetry from the Foundation Lolita Rubia. His collection Noite nu Norte / Night in the North, translated by Laura Cesarco Eglin and Jesse Lee Kercheval, is forthcoming from Eulalia Books.
Laura Cesarco Eglin is the translator of Of Death. Minimal Odes by Hilda Hilst, (co•im•press, 2018), which won the 2019 Best Translated Book Award in Poetry. She is the co-translator from the Portuñol of Fabián Severo’s Night in the North (Eulalia Books, 2020). Her translations from Spanish, Portuguese, Portuñol, and Galician have appeared in a variety of journals, including Timber, Exchanges, Modern Poetry in Translation, Eleven Eleven, The Massachusetts Review, Cordella Magazine, Gulf Coast: A Journal of Literature and Fine Arts, and The Puritan. Cesarco Eglin is the author of five poetry collections, including Calling Water by Its Name (trans. Scott Spanbauer; Mouthfeel Press, 2016), Occasions to Call Miracles Appropriate (The Lune; Lunamopolis, 2015), Reborn in Ink (trans. Catherine Jagoe and Jesse Lee Kercheval; The Word Works, 2019) and the forthcoming chapbook Life, One Not Attached to Conditionals (Thirty West Publishing House). She is the co-founding editor and publisher of Veliz Books.
Jesse Lee Kercheval is a poet, writer, and translator, specializing in Uruguayan poetry. Her latest poetry collections are America that island off the coast of France (Tupelo Press, 2019), winner of the 2017 Dorset Prize, and La crisis es el cuerpo (The Crisis is The Body), published in 2020 in Argentina by Bajo la luna. Her translations include Love Poems by Idea Vilariño (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2020), which was long listed for the 2020 PEN Best Translated Poetry Book Award, and The Invisible Bridge: Selected Poems Circe Maia (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2015), for which she awarded an NEA in Translation. Her translation, with Jeannine Pitas, of Mariella Nigro’s selected poetry, Memory Rewritten, is forthcoming with White Pine Press.
