The Ofi Press and Cadaverine Poetry Magazine have linked up to share the work of four wonderful young poets with our readers. The poems, each written by Cadaverine published poets, were selected by Ofi Press editor Jack Little and all have been translated into Spanish by Karenina Osnaya. With thanks to Nici West, Richie McCaffery and David Tait.
Cadaverine Magazine publishes the best new poetry, prose and non-fiction from under 30's. We believe in showcasing contemporary, innovative and original new writing from the next generation of literary talent.
Published in Issue 27 of The Ofi Press.
The Weekend After
they drive down to the sea and he waits in it, poor boy, ankle deep, her father’s wellington boots
cavernous around his feet. She skims pebbles, never managing more than two rebounds.
It’s November. The sky is a different grey to the water:
one like the boundless slate of her hometown the other like a raincoat she heard about in a song once.
Preoccupied with edges, he feels the waves’ patient repossession, while she studies the five boats on the horizon,
distant and still as cathedrals, trying to decide whether or not they’re anchored. | El Fin de Semana Despues (Traducida por Karenina Osnaya)
manejan hacia el mar y él espera en el, pobre niño, hasta el tobillo, con las botas para el agua de su padre
cavernosas alrededor de sus pies. Ella avienta piedritas, y nunca logra que reboten mas de dos veces.
Es noviembre. El cielos es un gris diferente que el agua:
uno como la loza ilimitada de su pueblo natal el otro como una gabardina que escuchø ella en una canciøn una vez.
Preocupado con los bordes, se siente La recuperacion paciente de las olas, Minetras ella estudia las cinco barcas en el horizonte,
distantes y quietas como catedrales, tratando decidir si estan ancladas, o no.
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Reasons
Because a baby unscrunches his eyes to meet houses shuttering past the car window, knowing he did not come from houses. Because the arrival from fainting is terrible, a big sick world. Because after a dream sometimes there is a long hollow face with eyes made from sand all over the back of your head, and you cannot shake out the terror for hours. Because dreams are the claws of the other place. Because the longer you lie asleep during daylight the deeper you swim in dreams more real than houses. This is why you believe in it. Because the man you love is ugly and does not feed you, and lives years and miles from your house, and you still have the will to love. | Razones
Porque un bebe desaprieta sus ojos para encontrar casas cerrando pasando de la ventana del coche, sabiendo que no vino de alguno casa. Porque volver de un desmayo es terrible, un mundo grande y enfermo. Porque a veces después de un sueño hay una larga y hueca cara con ojos hechos de arena regadas por toda tu nuca, y no puedes espantar el terror por horas. Porque los sueños son las garras del otro lugar. Porque entre más permaneces dormido durante la luz del día más profundo nadas en sueños más reales que casas. Es por esto que crees en ello. Porque el hombre que amas es feo y no te alimenta, y vive años y millas de tu casa, y tú todavía tienes el deseo de amar. |
falling out of love
“I went looking for loneliness. But it found me.” – Anna Kamienska There is a lack of filling Inside this pastry: Like a dusty wine glass Waiting for the shatter Or the duly rhythmic gyrations Of hips: so mechanical. But oh, love – can I call you that, will you mind any more or less than I do –sometimes when I grasp your shoulders, I can’t feel the thrumming of my own heart. And I have an intense desire to transcend Said gap. Said Detachment. Like leaf from twig, I crack, and fumble. | dejando de amar
“Fui a buscar a la soledad. Pero ella me encontró a mi”. - Anna Kamienska Hay una ausencia de relleno Adentro de este hojaldre: Como una polvosa copa de vino Esperando a ser rota O los debidos rítmicos giros De cadera: tan mecánicos. Pero oh, amor – puedo llamarte así, Te importa más o menos que A mí – a veces cuando sujeto tus hombros, No puedo sentir el tamborileo de mi propio corazón. Y yo tengo un intenso deseo de trascender Dicho hueco. Dicho Desprendimiento. Como hoja de la vara, Me rompo, y tropiezo. |
Hierarchies
I
Our mid-afternoon rendezvous With Germanic efficiency Comes as a relief, a respite From Italian relaxation. Forget the authenticity Of being somewhere different! Just once, we want to be greeted By free WiFi, saunas and peace Which only money can purchase. Is this not what we came here for, To be able to report back Our conquests at our own leisure?
II At night, in the Palais Auersperg, Orchestra, singers and dancers Conspire to make us feel special. Led aside to a private room During the brief intermission, It is hard not to fall for this. Re-emerging, an audience Of Chinese tourists meets our eyes, Possibly wondering about These fellow travellers, strolling Out with forbidden cameras, Now performers in our own right. | Jerarquías I Nuestra rendez-vous de media tarde Con eficiencia Germana Llega como un alivio, un respiro De relajación Italiana. Olvida la autenticidad De estar en un lugar diferente! Solo una vez, queremos ser recibidos Por WiFi gratis, saunas y paz Que sólo el dinero puede comprar. ¿No es esto para lo que venimos, Para poder reportar Nuestras conquistas Cuando a uno se le antoje? II Por la noche, en el Palais Auersperg, Orquesta, cantantes y bailarines Conspiran para hacernos sentir especiales. Llevados a un cuarto privado Durante el breve intermedio, Es difícil no caer en esto. Reemergiendo, una audiencia De turistas chinos que encuentran nuestros ojos, Posiblemente preguntando sobre Esos compañeros de viaje, pasando Con cámaras prohibidas, Ahora artistas de nuestro propio mérito. |
Michael D Conley is a secondary school teacher of English and Drama from Manchester. He is currently studying part-time for an MA in Creative Writing at Manchester Metropolitan University, after a BA in English Literature and Theatre Studies from the University of Warwick. He has been published in several magazines and e-zines including Glasgow Review, Sentinel, Sparkbright and La Reata, and he is influenced by a variety of writers of both poetry and prose, including Charles Simic, John Berryman, Raymond Carver, Kurt Vonnegut and Sylvia Plath.
Phoebe Power received one of the 2012 Eric Gregory Awards. She was also a Foyle Young Poet of the Year in 2009, and her poems have appeared in magazines including Magma, Orbis and Cadaverine. Phoebe was the guest editor for the latest issue of The Poetry Society’s youth magazine, YM: Poetry. You can find her poems at phoebepower.blogspot.com.
Stephanie Guo's work has been published in Front Porch Review, Hanging Loose, Eunoia Review, and Cadaverine. In 2012, she received the Adroit Prize in Verse.
Ian Chung is a Warwick Writing Programme graduate. His work has appeared in Dr. Hurley's Snake-Oil Cure, Foundling Review, Ink Sweat & Tears, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, The Cadaverine, The Misfit Quarterly and Unthology No. 3 (Unthank Books, 2012), among others. He reviews for various publications, including Rum & Reviews Magazine, Sabotage Reviews and The Cadaverine. He is the founder of Eunoia Review, and is also on the editorial teams of Epicentre Magazine and The Cadaverine. When not editing/reading/writing, he watches more TV than is reasonable for one person and harbours dreams of writing a multi-volume science fiction saga.
Karenina Osnaya was born in Mexico City and is a regular contributor of photography, articles and translations to The Ofi Press.