Bilingual Sestina
Julia Alvarez
Some things I have to say aren't getting said
in this snowy, blonde, blue-eyed, gum chewing English,
dawn's early light sifting through the persianas closed
the night before by dark-skinned girls whose words
evoke cama, aposento, suenos in nombres
from that first word I can't translate from Spanish.
Gladys, Rosario, Altagracia--the sounds of Spanish
wash over me like warm island waters as I say
your soothing names: a child again learning the nombres
of things you point to in the world before English
turned sol, tierra, cielo, luna to vocabulary words--
sun, earth, sky, moon--language closed
like the touch-sensitive morivivir. whose leaves closed
when we kids poked them, astonished. Even Spanish
failed us when we realized how frail a word
is when faced with the thing it names. How saying
its name won't always summon up in Spanish or English
the full blown genii from the bottled nombre.
Gladys, I summon you back with your given nombre
to open up again the house of slatted windows closed
since childhood, where palabras left behind for English
stand dusty and awkward in neglected Spanish.
Rosario, muse of el patio, sing in me and through me say
that world again, begin first with those first words
you put in my mouth as you pointed to the world--
not Adam, not God, but a country girl numbering
the stars, the blades of grass, warming the sun by saying
el sol as the dawn's light fell through the closed
persianas from the gardens where you sang in Spanish,
Esta son las mananitas, and listening, in bed, no English
yet in my head to confuse me with translations, no English
doubling the world with synonyms, no dizzying array of words,
--the world was simple and intact in Spanish
awash with colores, luz, suenos, as if the nombres
were the outer skin of things, as if words were so close
to the world one left a mist of breath on things by saying
their names, an intimacy I now yearn for in English--
words so close to what I meant that I almost hear my Spanish
blood beating, beating inside what I say en ingles.
Your essay does a great job of analyzing the poem and then connecting it back to your novel. Both works are very comparable; you picked a great poem for this book.
ReplyDeleteI would like to point out that English is described as “snowy, blonde, blue-eyed, gum chewing” which can be a direct characterization of the stereo-typical American, such as me. Spanish isn’t directly characterized by Hispanic girls, but there is a mention of “dark-skinned girls.” I think this contrast in looks emphasizes another aspect of her difficulties in a different place. The American girls aren’t just white; they are “snowy.” I find this a bit humorous as a side note.
The structure of the Sestina might also represent how the author feels about the English language. It’s restrictive because she cannot freely express herself comfortably in a somewhat foreign language. Also, maybe the speaker feels restricted by the culture. It’s different than her own, so naturally she’s going to feel restricted.
I really like your analysis at the end of the poem, how the speaker wants to embrace English. You related this to your book so well with similar quotes from both works.