Jorge Eduardo Eielson and his Visible Song
Visible Song
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Jorge Eduardo Eielson and his Visible Song
Very few Latin American poets are known outside Latin America. In the US, for example, poetry lovers may mention the names of Neruda and Borges but then draw a blank. In Mercurius, we recently published a feature on five outstanding, living Latin American poets. Today I wish to present you with another name: Jorge Eduardo Eielson, who is fascinating not only for his poetry, but also his plastic work, and is well worth googling. Please enjoy these two poems by Eielson, with special thanks to Arturo Desimone for his translation of “Albergo del sole”.
Born in Perú in 1924, Jorge Eduardo Eielson is considered one of the most interesting and original voices in Latin American poetry. At the age of 21, he won Peru’s National Poetry Prize, and its National Theatre Prize the following year.
In 1951, he travelled to Italy for a summer vacation and decided to settle permanently in Rome. In the 1970s, he immersed himself in Peru’s pre-Colombian art, which powerfully influenced his own work. A visionary, Eielson proposed the distribution of his ashes on the moon’s surface, maintaining that the Moon was the ideal cemetery for poets. Eielson died in March 2006 in Milan. A recipient of the Guggenheim Prize, his poems have been translated into more than ten languages. Eielson's friend, Martha Canfield, created the Jorge Eielson Study Center in Florence, which seeks to preserve the poet's memory and spread his legacy.
I had the privilege of meeting him in Caracas, where he was presenting one of his plastic exhibitions. As we spent the day talking and walking around Caracas, I found him very kind, affectionate, and affable. He gave me almost all his published books, I remember him with much love. When he returned to Italy where he lived, we maintained a cordial epistolary relationship until his death in 2006. You can hear his voice on UPV Radio in the program La Maja Desnuda: Jorge Eduardo Eielson: Dark night of the Body
Albergo del sole I
tell me
do you not fear death
as you brush your teeth
as you grin
is it possible for you to not weep
when you breathe
doesn’t it hurt your heart
at dawn?
where is your body
when you eat
to where does it all fly
when you sleep
leaving on a chair
solely a shirt
a pair of pants ablaze
and an alley of ashes
from the kitchen to the nothingness?
— Translation by Arturo Desimone