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Vicente Huidobro [Vicente García Fernández) (Chile) 1893-1948

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 Vicente Huidobro (Vicente García Fernández) (Chile)

1893-1948

 

Born in Santiago, Chile in 1893, Huidobro was educated at a Jesuit school, which later led to a profound spiritual crisis in the young man, as he revolted against his aristocratic Roman Catholic upbringing. He left for Paris in 1916, having published six books of poetry. Although the first four books had little new to offer, he had moved in the last years of his youth to develop the ideas, most clearly in Adán, which in Paris Pierre Reverdy, Huidobro and others would describe as "creationism."

 


     Once in Paris, Huidobro (the pseudonym he had created for himself) began to contribute to the avant-garde literary magazines, particularly Sicand Nord-Sud, which he co-edited with Reverdy and Guillaume Apollinaire. During these early years he published six further books of poetry, including Horizon Carré, Tour Eiffel, and Hallali. Travel to Madrid in 1918 brough the attention the Spanish avant-gardists such as Gerardo Diego, Juan Larrea, and Jorge Luis Borges, who encouraged him. The result of this interchange was Ultraism, which would, in turn, influence the young Argentine poet, Oliverio Girondo.

     Huidobro returned to Chile for one year in 1925, and became the editor of a newspaper and ran as candidate for the Chilean Federation of Students in the national elections. Upon his defeat, Huidobro returned to France, where he continued his writing, including several novels and other works in other genres.

     In 1936 he participated in the Spanish Civil War on the side of the Republic. As the fall of the Republic became imminent, he returned to Chile, where he wrote his important satrical novel, Sátiro; o, El poder de las palabras (1939).

     Huidobro's major poetic work was his long poem, Altazor, subtitled "Journey in a Parachute," published in Madrid in 1931. Like Joyce and other major avant-gardists, Huidobro's work is made up of a complex layering of word-play and puns. Even the title relates to the root words: alto (high), Asor (goshawk), while at the same, through its subtitle, suggesting the Icarus-like possibilities of the fall.

     The poet's last two works, Ver y palpar (1941) and El ciudadano del olvido (1941) contain autobiographical and personal elements. He died in Cartagena in 1948.

 

BOOKS OF POETRY

 

Ecos del alma (Santiago: Imprenta Chide, 1911); Canciones en la noche (Santiago: Imprenta Chile, 1913); La gruta de silencio (Santiago: Imprenta Chile, 1913); Las pagodas ocultas (Santiago: Imprenta Universitaría, 1914); Adán(Santiago: Imprenta Universitaría, 1916); El espejo de agua (Buenos Aires: Editorial Orión, 1916); Horizon Carré (Paris: Editions Paul Birault, 1917); Tour Eiffel (Madrid: Imprenta Pueyo, 1918); Hallali(Madrid: Ediciones Jesús López, 1918); Ecuatorial (Madrid: Imprenta Pueyo, 1918); Poemas articos (Madrid: Imprenta Pueyo, 1918); Saisons choisies(Paris: Editions Le Cible, 1921); Automne régulier (Paris: Editions Librairie de France, 1925); Tout a Coup (Paris: Editions Au Sans Pareil, 1925); Altazor: el viaje en paracaídas (Madrid: Campañía Iberoamericana de Publications, 1931); Temblor de Cielo (Madrid: Ediorial Plutarco, 1931); Ver y palpar (Santiago: Ediciones Ercilla, 1941); El ciudadano del Olvido (Santiago: Ediciones Ercilla, 1941); Antología de Vicente Huidobro (Santiago: Editorial Zig-Zag, 1945); Ultimos Poemas(Santiago: Talleres Gráficos Ahués Hnos, 1948); Poesías, edited with a prologue by Enrique Lihn (Havana: Casa de las Américas, 1968); Obras Completas de Vicente Huidobro (Santiago: Editorial Zig-Zag, 1964); Obras Completas de Vicente Huidobro (Santiago: Editorial Andres Bello, 1976)

 

ENGLISH LANGUAGE TRANSLATIONS

 

The Relativity of Spring: 13 poems translated from the French, translated by Michael Palmer and Geoffrey Young (Berkeley, California: Sand Dollar, 1976); The Selected Poetry of Vicente Huidobro, edited by David Guss (New York: New Directions, 1981); Althazor, translated by Eliot Weinberger (Saint Paul, Minnesota: Graywolf Press, 1988); The Poet Is a Little God: Creationist Verse, translated by Jorge García-Gómez (Riverside, California: Xenos Books, 1990)

 

 

Ars Poetica

 

Let the verse be as a key

Opening a thousand doors.

A leaf falls; something is flying by;

Let whatever your eyes gaze upon be created,

And the soul of the hearer remain shivering.

 

Invent new worlds and watch over your word;

The adjective, when not a life-giver, kills.

 

We are in the cycle of nerves.

Like a memory

The muscle hangs in the museums;

Nevertheless, we have no less strength:

True vigor

Dwells in the head.

 

Why do you sing the rose, oh Poets!

Make it blossom in the poem;

 

Only for us

Live all things under the Sun.

 

The Poet is a little God.

 

--Translated from the Spanish by Jorge García-Gómez

 

(from Espejo de Agua, 1916)

 

 

 

Altazor

 

Canto III

 

Break the loops of veins

The links of breath and the chains

 

Of eyes paths of horizons

Flower screened on uniform skies

 

Soul paved with recollections

Like stars carved by the wind

 

The sea is a roof of bottles

That dreams in the sailor's memory

 

The sky is that pure flowing hair

Braided by the hands of the aeronaut

 

And the airplane carries a new language

To the mouth of the eternal skies

 

Chains of glances tie us to the earth

Break them break so many chains

 

The first man flies to light the sky

Space bursts open in a wound

 

And the bullet returns to the assassin

Forever tied to the infinite

 

Cut all the links

Of river sea and mountain

 

Of spirit and memory

Of dying law and fever dreams

 

It is the world that turns and goes on and whirls

In the last eyeball

 

Tomorrow the countryside

Will follow the galloping horses

 

The flower will suck the bee

For the hangar will be a hive

 

The rainbow will become a bird

And fly singing to its nest

 

Crows will become planets

And sprout feathers of grass

 

Leaves will to loose feathers

Falling from their throats

 

Glances will be rivers

And the rivers wounds in the legs of space

 

The flock will guide its shepherd

So the day can doze drowsy as an airplane

 

And the tree will perch on the turtledove

While clouds turn to stone

 

For everything is as it is in every eye

An ephemeral astrological dynasty

 

Falling from universe to universe

 

The poet is a manicurist of language

Not the magician who lights and douses

Stellar words and the cherries of vagabond good-byes

Far from the hands of the earth

And everything he says is his invention

things that move outside the ordinary world

Let us kill the poet who gluts us

 

Poetry still and poetry poetry

Poetical poetry poetry

Poetical poetry by poetical poets

Poetry

Too much poetry

From the rainbow to the piano-bench ass of the lady next door

Enough poetry bambina enough lady

It still has bars across its eyes

The game is a game and not an endless prayer

Smiles or laughter not the eyeball's little lamps

That wheel from affliction toward the sea

Smiles and gossip of the weaver star

Smiles of a brain evoking dead stars

On the séance table of its radiance

 

Enough lady harp of the beautiful images

Of furtive illuminated "likes"

It's something else we're looking for something else

We already know how to dart a kiss like a glance

Plant glances like trees

Cage trees like birds

Water birds like heliotropes

Play a heliotrope like music

Empty music like a sack

Decapitate a sack like a penguin

Cultivate penguins like vineyards

Milk a vineyard like a cow

Unmast cows like schooners

Comb a schooner like a comet

Disembark comets like tourists

Charm tourists like snakes

Harvest snakes like almonds

Undress an almond like an athlete

Fell athletes like cypresses

Light cypresses like lanterns

Nestle lanterns like skylarks

Heave skylarks like sighs

Embroider sighs like silks

Drain silks like rivers

Raise a river like a flag

Row through fires like a rooster

Douse a rooster like a fire

Row through fires like seas

Reap seas like wheat

Ring wheat like bells

Bleed bells like lambs

Draw lambs like smiles

Bottle smiles like wine

Set wine like jewels

Electrify jewels like sunsets

Man sunsets like battleships

Uncrown a battleship like a king

Hoist kings like dawns

Crucify dawns like prophets

Etc. etc. etc.

Enough sir violin sunk in a wave wave

Everyday wave of misery religion

Of dream after dream possession of jewels

After the heart-eating roses

And the nights of the perfect ruby

The new athlete leaps on the magnetic track

Frolicking with magnetic words

Hot as the earth when a volcano rises

Hurling the sorceries of his bird phrases

 

The last poet withers away

The bells of the continents chime

The moon dies with the night on its back

The sun pulls the day out of its pocket

The solemn new land opens its eyes

And moves from earth to the stars

The burial of poetry

 

All the languages are dead

Dead in the hands of the tragic neighbor

We must revive the languages

With raucous laughter

With wagonloads of giggles

With circuit breakers in the sentences

And cataclysm in the grammar

Get up and walk

Stretch your legs limber the stiff joints

Fires of laughter for the shivering language

Astral gymnastics for the numb tongues

Get up and walk

Live like a football

Burst in the mouth of motorcycle diamonds

In the drunkenness of its fireflies

The very vertigo of its liberation

A beautiful madness in the life of the word

A beautiful madness in the zone of language

Adventure lined with tangible disdain

The adventure of language between two wrecked ships

A delightful catastrophe on the rails of verse

 

And since we must live and not kill ourselves

As long as we live let us play

The simple sport of words

Of the pure word and nothing more

Without images awash with jewels

(Words carry too much weight)

A ritual of shadowless words

An angel game there in the infinite

Word by word

By the light of a star that a crash brings to life

Sparks leap from the crash and then more violent

More enormous is the explosion

Passion of the game in space

With no moon-wings no pretense

Single combat between chest and sky

Total severance at last of voice and flesh

Echo of light bleeding air into the air

 

Then nothing nothing

Spirit whisper of the wordless phrase

 

 

--Translated from the Spanish by Eliot Weinberger

 

(from Altazor, 1931)

 

 


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