>> Suzanne Schadl: Welcome
to the Hispanic Reading Room
at the Library of Congress.
My name is Suzanne Schadl, and
I have the pleasure, pleasure
and privilege, otherwise
pleasure, of serving as Chief
in the Hispanic Division.
Thanks to all of
you for attending
and [foreign language].
Our guest of honor, Portuguese
poet Ana Luisa Amaral.
Many of you don't know, it is
midnight for her right now.
[Laughter] And here she is
with us, so thank you very much
for being here, and also
for [foreign language],
Speaking of Names.
And for employing poetry
to represent literary narratives
we think are familiar, in voices
and from characters
who challenge our understanding
of that familiarity.
As a librarian, you have to
love people who are referential
in their literature,
and who do it
in critical and inventive ways.
So thank you for that work.
For me, this Naming of Silences
and Peripheries champions
the causes of empathy,
understanding, and respect.
Maybe Speaking of Names
is [foreign language].
It certainly underscores a
method for change making.
And in that way, I look forward
to this conversation adding
an interesting dimension
to a theme we are
exploring across the Library
of Congress this year:
America's Changemakers.
So thank you.
This poetry reading
and conversation
with Ana Luisa Amaral in
reference to What's in a Name,
which was translated by Margaret
Jull Costa, is part of a series
in the Hispanic Division
called Create and Connect.
The idea is to create content
like we're doing here this
evening, and like Talia
and Ana Luisa Amaral did earlier
today in reading from your works
for our archive of
Hispanic literature on tape,
Hispanic [foreign
language] on tape.
And also to strengthen
our connections.
We are trying to strengthen our
connections with all of you,
so under your chairs is a
little survey, if you have time
to fill it out and give us some
information about yourself.
If you are so willing,
we would be,
we'd be very happy
to receive that.
With that, it is my pleasure to
recognize Talia Guzman-Gonzalez,
one of our excellent
reference specialists here
in the Hispanic Division.
And to thank her for
collaborating with the Poetry
and Literature Center-- I
don't see anybody from them--
here at the Library of Congress
and from the Institute
[foreign language].
And we have the acting Cultural
Attaché Sandra Pirras here.
Thank you very much for
working with us on this event.
And I look forward
to the conversation.
Thank you all.
>> Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Thank you, Suzanne.
I am going to read
a brief introduction
to Ana Luisa Amaral.
I'm going to do it from
here, not necessarily even go
to the podium, and then we'll
move onto our conversation,
best of all, the poetry
reading by Ana Luisa.
Ana Luisa Amaral is
Professor of Literature
in the Facultad de
[foreign language]
of the Universidad del Porto,
where she's also Senior
Researcher and Co-Director
of the Institute for Comparative
Literature Margarida Losa.
She has PhD in the poetry of
Emily Dickinson, and her areas
of research include
Comparative Poetry
and Feminist and Queer Theories.
Among her scholarly publications
is the Dicionario de Critical
Feminista that she co-edited
with Gabriela Macerdo.
And the annotated edition
of Novas Cartas Portuguesas
entre Portugal e o Mundo,
which is also published
in English
as New Portuguese
Letters to the World,
published by Peter Lang in 2015.
They're both there on the table.
You can go and see them.
She has published
17 books of poetry?
Am I missing?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: More.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: More?
But around--
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
More or less.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Books of poetry
and her poems are also included
in numerous anthologies,
national and international
anthologies.
Novels, plays, children's
books, literary essays,
she's covered many,
many literary grounds.
Among her published
translations we can find works
by Emily Dickinson, William
Shakespeare, John Updike,
and Patricia Highsmith.
Her books have been published
in the US, Brazil, Mexico,
Columbia, Venezuela, Spain,
Italy, Germany, France,
Sweden, and the Netherlands.
And not only that, she
travels a lot and frequently.
She was just telling me
where she's going this
year, and I was exhausted.
How you do it, I don't know.
It's amazing.
She has been recognized
with important national
and international literary
prizes including the [foreign
language] Casino da Póvoa
for her book A Génese do Amor
in 2007, which was also selected
for the prestigious
Portugal Telecom Prize.
That same year, she
received the prize
for Poetry Giuseppe
Acerbi in Italy.
Her book Entre Dois Rios e
Outras Noites received the
Grande Prémio de Poesia da
Associaçao Portuguesa de
Escritores in 2008.
And in 2012, she received the
Premio de Poesia Antonio Gedeao
for her book Vozes.
And recently, in 2018,
she received the Premio
[inaudible] Jacinto do Prado
Coelho for her book of
essays [foreign language].
These are some of her prizes.
Is that good?
Okay. [Laughter]
We'll have to now.
Ana Luisa Amaral
is also the co-host
of an excellent podcast
titled O Som question
so Versos Fazem ao Abrir.
It's delightful,
and I recommend it
to everyone with Luís Caetano.
Each episode is dedicated
to one author, and it starts
with the reading of a poem,
and then it's followed
by a very engaging conversation
of poetry, art, and culture.
It's really good.
But we're here today
to celebrate the publication
of her latest book.
Her latest collection of
poetry: What's in a Name,
published by New Directions,
with a magnificent translation
by Margaret Jull Costa.
I should mention that the
original title of the book
in Portuguese is also
What's in a Name,
and we'll be talking
about that shortly.
This truly beautiful
collection explores themes
and images present across
Amaral's literature.
Her mastery to transform
the everyday life of things,
and things of our everyday
life into lyrical gems is one
of the most celebrated
features in her work.
The intersection between
the cosmic and the everyday,
the poetic and the
political, the irony
but also the emotion
are some of the themes
or relationships
explored in the book.
Before we start, I would like
to say that on a personal note,
besides being one of Portugal's
best poets and intellectuals,
Ana Luisa is also a very
generous person with her time,
with her intellect,
and with her poetry.
So it's, it's amazing that she's
here and she's talking with us.
And anyone who has
spent five time
with her has spent five time
learning from someone great.
So thank you for being here,
and welcome to the
Hispanic Reading Room.
[ Applause ]
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
It is my pleasure
and my privilege, thank you.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: So I'm
going to start with a question.
Just going to throw an
idea for a conversation,
maybe a point of departure.
And let's take it from there.
What, what makes Ana
Luisa Amaral the poet tick
and create, right?
And we were talking earlier
today about your first book
of poems, Minha Senhora de
Quê, published in 1990.
And of course, those
of us familiar
with maybe Portuguese
literature, we see that title.
We're like, "Oh, maybe
she's playing, right?
With the title Minha
Senhora [foreign language]?"
et cetera.
And then here we have
now, your book of poetry,
What's in a Name, with a
line from Romeo and Juliet
by William Shakespeare.
And to me, it's fascinating
because I know you were saying
that What's in a Name
doesn't necessarily come
from [foreign language].
But I'm reading it that way
because it shows an example
of how Ana Luisa has one, you
know one foot well-grounded
in Portuguese contemporary
poetry.
But also in a larger literary
canon that is just so present
in your work, and of which
you are a very strong scholar.
So can you, can you talk
about this to, I don't know?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Yes, yes, of course.
Yes, of course, of course.
First of all I would like
to say thank you very much.
Thank you for having me here.
It's a pleasure, it's a
privilege, and it's beautiful.
I had never been to Washington.
I lived in the United States for
three years, from 1990 to 1993,
but it was on the East Coast.
It was in Rhode Island, actually
in a small town called
Hopkinton, very, very teeny,
teeny, teeny near [inaudible].
And I was at Brown
University and at Harvard,
you know so I commuted
from one to the other.
And this was years ago, so
and then I come very often
to the United States, but
I've never been to been
to Washington, you know,
so thank you very much
for having me here.
It's a big pleasure.
About your question, well, first
of all, that, I'm going to start
with that first book of mine
called Minha Senhora de Quê,
which is by itself a
very hard, you know,
title to translate into English.
Because Anglo-Saxon, let's
say, culture does not have
that tradition, the Medieval
tradition that is, you know,
the, the [inaudible] poetry
with the Minha Senhora,
that means that was the way
that the troubadours
would address the female,
the feminine you.
Minha Senhora, in those
days it was Minha Senhor
in the 12th century, 11th, 12th,
13th century because Senhora,
Senhor does not have
feminine and masculine,
you know in the, in the gender.
It was only [inaudible]
first, only one form.
But anyway, Minha
Senhora comes precisely
from the [inaudible] poetry.
It does not come, at
least in the conscious way
from [inaudible] or artists.
Minha Senhora means it doesn't,
I didn't give it no [inaudible].
It is a very interesting thing,
but the person who convinced me
to publish my first book
was [foreign language],
a very good friend and well the
person-- I was 33 years old.
I didn't publish
my books, you know.
She kept saying to me, "You
have to publish your poems.
You have to publish."
I didn't want to publish
because I was afraid
of losing what I felt was like
this kind of, I don't know,
relation of in a sense with the
word, with what I was writing.
I was afraid that, you know,
critics would make
me too conscious,
too self-conscious of my poems.
And then you know I don't know,
it was a mixture of things.
Anyway, she was the
person responsible for,
as I was saying, the edition,
the publication of
my first book.
And when I organized finally
that first book of poems
which is a totally
different task, by the way.
One thing is to write poetry
which is for me much easier.
Another thing is to make a book.
To make a book is
a different thing.
It's like a project, you know.
I have to exclude and include,
and that process of inclusion
and exclusion is
very complicated.
For me it has to have coherence,
inner coherence,
a book, you know?
So when I was, anyway, when
I was preparing that book, I,
I called it something else.
The title was, for those
of you, I don't know
if there's anyone here
understanding Portuguese.
In Portuguese it was
[foreign language].
Now, the in English, [foreign
language] is burning bush.
The burning bush of
the Bible, you know?
But in Portuguese, burning
bush is only one word.
It's a beautiful word, actually.
[ Foreign Language ]
The problem is that very few
people nowadays know what the
word [foreign language] means
in Portuguese, you know.
So when I would say the title,
and "How is it going
to be titled?"
And I would say,
[foreign language].
And people would say,
[foreign language].
And I said no, no, it's
not [foreign language].
Ah, and some of them would say,
"And what is [foreign
language]?"
And I thought that
maybe I should,
you know choose another
title for the book.
But anyway, that is how
the book was accepted
at the publishing house,
[foreign language].
And then, I went to, to a
poem which I have there,
Minha Senhora, and I titled
the book after that poem.
Then [foreign language],
[inaudible] person,
you know wrote a wonderful
essay on that book.
And she said, "In clear
dialogue with [inaudible].
I loved this."
And I started, you know I
actually, you know I, I--
it was if it made sense,
so I started to say,
even in interviews, "Ah yes,
my book [foreign language]."
Which is possible, I mean
comparative literature,
comparative literature, as you
know, you know, you don't have
to know, I mean a poet doesn't
have to know the poet's work
in order to dialogue
with it, right?
But that was not the case,
but this is, this is,
it's very interesting, you know,
because there are times I think
when the reading, the reading
does illuminate the writing,
you know?
And you say, "My god,
I have never thought
about this," you know?
And I wrote that,
yes it makes sense.
Everything fell into
place and my mind,
it made sense even though
the title had nothing to do
with that interpretation,
you know?
But did I answer?
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Yes.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: I'm sorry.
I, I, I talk a lot.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
No, and that's great.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Too much.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
That's precisely why we want
to have you here because we're
here to hear you, not me.
But talk to us a little bit
about your relationship then
with English literature, with
North American literature.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
That's alright.
No, no the problem
is that I think I,
I worked my [inaudible].
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
How did you come
to Emily Dickinson, for example?
And how did you make that-- ?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Ah!
Emily Dickinson, my,
one of my passions.
I have three passions
actually in my life, you know?
In poetry, well I have
some Portuguese passions.
One of them-- .
[ Foreign Language ]
But my enormous passions are
Emily Dickinson, William Blake,
and William Shakespeare.
I was writing my PhD.
This was in the last 80s.
I was writing my PhD on
Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton,
and Elizabeth Jennings.
Elizabeth Jennings, for
those who don't know maybe,
she's a British poet,
British-British.
Anne Sexton is, as you
know, an American poet.
And Sylvia Plath is American
of course, but she moved,
as you know to, to,
to, to, to England,
to the United-- to Britain.
To London, actually, to England.
And the idea was to
work on space and time.
I think it was something
like that.
No, I'm sorry, no.
The [inaudible] in
these three poets.
And I, I actually, I
think it was a nice idea,
so Anne Sexton would be
the example, they are all
from the same period, right?
The American, then Elizabeth
Jennings, the English,
and Sylvia Path making the
bridge between, you know,
England and the States, and
the United States, and America.
But the thing is that I was
getting very, very depressed.
This is the absolute
[inaudible].
Reading from Anne Sexton,
and after a year and
a half, you know?
[Laughter] And the other
one, Elizabeth Jennings,
you know, became a nun.
And she's not the most humorous
person, you know, in the world.
Anyway, so after a year and a
half working on Sylvia Plath
and Anne Sexton, and reading
about seasonal depression
and suicide, suicide
and depression,
and all of these, you know.
I myself started to get
very quite depressed,
you know, really.
And I told this to
my supervisor.
It was this, it's the
same person who said
that I should publish my poems.
And she said, "Maybe
you know this one."
And she gave me these complete
poems of Emily Dickinson,
the one-volume edition, you
know, the most well-known.
And I took the book, and I
brought it with me because she's
from Queen, but I live in Porto,
so it's a, it's a, it's an hour
and a half travel by, by train.
And in the train, I opened the
book, and I started to read.
And I said to myself,
"I don't like this.
What is this?
This woman still uses
capitals, you know?
[Laughter] Oh my god,
I don't like this.
I don't understand any of this,
and I closed the
book, and I came home.
And I came home.
But then at two in the morning
or so, because I like to,
you know I work until very late.
It was two in the morning
or something like that.
I opened the book again out of
duty because it was absolutely
because I mean my supervisor
had passed me that book.
And I read this poem.
"If when the stillness
is volcanic-- ", no.
"If the stillness is
volcanic in the human face,
when upon the pain Titanic
features keep their place."
And suddenly, you know it was
like it was a [inaudible].
It was as if something
really, you know [inaudible].
And the following day, I called,
I took the phone and I said,
"Sylvia Plath and
Emily Dickinson!"
And she said, "Okay."
And a week later I
said, "Emily Dickinson."
[Laughter] Not even [inaudible].
So that's how it was, you see.
And then I wrote
about the excess
on in Emily Dickinson's poetry.
Emily, actually it's called
The Poetics of Excess,
which is some word
which, you know the first
such can't be applied to
Emily Dickinson's poem,
but I think it can, you know?
I think that's through
the process of subversion,
that is she creates a
subterranean version under the,
the, the original version like
what she does with [inaudible].
What she does with, with the
form, for example, right?
Where she uses, she
uses the, the, the,
the hymn rhythm, right?
Four, three, four,
three, four three.
And then you know
she makes it implode.
I think that her
process is a process
of implosion more
than explosion.
And I think that she, everything
she does, even her gestures
of dressing only in white,
of you know starting to stay
at home and not go anywhere,
you know and become a recluse.
The myths of [inaudible]
as [inaudible].
And the myth actually only
was the Myth with a capital M,
as she was known by
the end of her life.
I think that those traits which
were traits exercised by women
in the mid-19th century.
Many other women were
recluse at home, were at home
like if you think
about the Brontes.
If we think about
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
If it weren't for
Robert Browning,
probably Elizabeth Barrett
Browning would still you know I
mean would have died
alone at home, right?
With her father.
Christine [inaudible], you know.
So that theme of
women, reticence, right?
The trait of reticence even, I
mean that is a common trait in,
in, in the behavior of
women in the 19th century.
What Dickinson does is she takes
this to an excess, you know?
She does this with everything.
With her poems as
well in the syntax,
in the grammar, you know?
I mean to the extent that she
does create grammar, you know?
I mean she creates
a poetry, you know?
Which is poetry,
but it is another,
but just like William
Blake, you know?
And she speaks about
everything, and she has humor
which is something that
I think is wonderful
in poetry, you know?
A little madness in the spring
is wholesome even for the king.
But God be with a clown.
That poem, for example,
you know she has humor.
No one, I cannot
dance upon my toes.
No man instructed me.
[Laughter] So while she could
very well dance upon her toes,
she knew very well how
to make perfect poem.
She knew, but she
wanted sometimes you know
to take that bit.
So that's how it was.
Sorry for all this.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: No.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Frankness.
[Laughter]
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Let's, before we, we talk,
we move onto the reading,
let's talk a little bit
about the translation
of the book,
because you're also
a translator.
And you're a translator of
Emily Dickinson, actually.
You were just looking at some
letters, and you were comparing
with our colleague, right?
From the Manuscript Division,
some words and some pieces
and how it has been published.
So how about what do you look
for when you're choosing
a translator?
When you're working
with a translator
to translate your work?
And what?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Not
me as a translator, no.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Yes,
so I have two questions, right?
So what do you look for when
you're choosing a translator
for your work?
And speaking to the
collaboration that goes
on between you know the
translator and the [inaudible],
person who's being translated?
But also you as a translator of,
of literary works
of poetry, right?
Is it a different relationship
when you're the subject
being translated, of course?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: It
is and it isn't, you know?
It's both.
I mean, I'm going to start
with me being translated first,
you know maybe that's easier.
For example, there are languages
that I can't understand.
I can't understand Dutch.
I can't understand Swedish.
I have to trust, to
trust the translator.
I never looked for a translator,
it is the translators
who always have, you know
written me or sent me mails.
Or contacted me or whatever,
you know asking me, "Do you mind
if I translate your poems?
Can I translate your poetry?"
And I said, "Yes, of course."
You know, actually in
the German case, yes,
I mean I, I, I, I went.
I looked up because I didn't,
I thought that that
person was not very--
I knew that I had heard
that she didn't have,
she was not very good in what
relates to translating poetry.
I think to translate
poetry is totally different
from translating a,
a novel, let's say.
Unless, unless the
novel is poetic.
I mean, if you're translating
Faust, that's a different issue.
Or you know if you're
translating Joyce, James Joyce,
you know Ulysses by James Joyce.
Okay, but those are
exceptions let's say.
But what, what it's
quite, it's a little bit,
I mean I feel a bit anguished
when the poem comes to me
for example, in Swedish.
Or right now it's going
to be in, in my last,
this book is going
to [inaudible]
in Italy, but Italian I know.
I speak Italian, so I can
understand the Italian.
Spanish as well, but it's
also going to come up,
this one in the Czech Republic.
I have no, I don't know
anything, anything, anything.
And it scares me a
little bit when he--
because they send me
questions, you know in English.
They say, "What do you,"
or in Portuguese, you know?
"What do you mean by?
Isn't that-- ?"
And sometimes I think,
"Oh my god.
If you didn't tell this right,
you don't understand this,
how is the translation
going to be?"
You know? So it scares me
a little bit, you know.
And I try to so it's, it's
when I know the language
which is the case of
English of course.
Margaret always, always, always,
always sends me her
translation, always, you know?
Every poem that she translates
she sends me with her questions.
Sometimes comments,
comments on the side,
you know saying okay, you know?
Or saying for example,
"That poem that I read-- ."
[ Foreign Language ]
She put, "whirligig
of childhood,
whirligig of childhood."
You know, she said, "It's
a bit Shakespearian,
but I like it very much."
And I think it's beautiful.
She's a wonderful
translator, you know?
I think so.
It functions, so yes,
there is these, it's,
I have a more passionate way
in a way because the poem comes
to me in another language.
When I translate, I do
it as I write my poetry,
see as I was saying to you.
I, I, I can't conceive my
life without [inaudible].
I need to write as
I need to eat,
as I need to drink
water, you know?
So mean I need to write.
I always wrote.
I always, always I have
boxes, big boxes of poems,
unpublished poems at home.
Sometimes I go there, you know,
sometimes I recycle
these, you know.
Sometimes I find a poem and
I take a line, only one line,
or I take that poem and I
take two or three stanzas
from that poem, you know,
and I write a new poem.
Sometimes this happens,
but anyway,
I can't live without poetry.
And as I, do you remember
when I was quoting Dickinson?
When Dickinson was
saying, "If I read the book
and it makes my body so cold,
no fire can ever warm me,
I know that is poetry," and she
underlines that that is poetry.
You know when, when
I read a poem,
I can feel the same
when I write a poem.
I can get everything is felt,
all the [inaudible]
you know, on the skin.
You know we are this, we
humans, we need this, right?
And so it is physical,
and in that regard,
it is passion, you know?
So I cannot conceive
poetry without passion.
Be it my own poetry or the poem
of the others that I translate.
I have to love the
other poems, you know?
The other poets or poems in
order to translate this poem,
you know that poem,
or that poet.
This poem or the poet.
When I say, "the poem,"
it's exactly because that's,
that podcast, I mean
that program that I have
on the radio called
O Som question
so Versos Fazem ao Abrir, it's
a poem by [inaudible], you know?
But it's poems, poets
that I love.
For example, my, the
last one was poem by,
the last ones was Gwendolyn
Brooks, for example,
which I like very, very much.
Denise Levertov, you know so I
mean it's poems which I love,
and yes, I discovered,
I don't know if any
of you know this poet.
Please do read it if
you don't know her.
She's a Danish poet,
actually the, the, the, the,
her name came to me from New
Directions, from my publish--
from the publishing house
for my publishing house.
They sent me how
do you say that?
Here in the States
you have that--
we don't have that
in Portuguese.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Proofs?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: No,
it's when you have the,
it's when they send you,
it's the first draft.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Galleys?
Galleys?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Yeah, the galleys.
They sent me the galleys.
We don't have that in Portugal,
don't have enough money
for that, you know?
[Laughter] They sent me
the galleys of this book
of essays by Inger Christensen.
I, and you know her, Inger
Christensen, I-n-g-e-r
and then Christensen, C-h-r-i-s
and then "tensen," Christensen.
Inger, she's a Danish poet,
and the title of that book
of essays is The
Condition of Secrecy.
And I fell in love with
those essays, and after that,
I found a poem, it's a
long poem in 40 pages.
And I cried for a long time
that I didn't cry with a poem.
And the poem, which
is published here
in the States, it's translated.
It's called Alphabet.
Alphabet. It's so, it's
the world, you know?
It's, it's, it's a, I mean for
me, it's a poem that speaks.
It's a poem that
perfectly speaks
about we humans, we human being.
We beings on this
planet, you know?
We, part of the cosmos.
We, together with, side
by side with animals,
with everything, you know?
With pain, love, war, I
mean everything is mixed in,
and everything is,
it's, it's true.
It's an alphabet.
It starts in A and it
goes to Z. And it's,
it's, what's [inaudible].
No, what's the name?
I don't know, it, it, it
follows a mathematic-.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Formula?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Formula, yes.
Well, it's a very, very,
very interesting,
weird but wonderful.
I don't know if any, does
anyone know that book?
No one? Alphabet.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Ana Luisa can't not teach.
She's a master, to be able to
learn about Gwendolyn Brooks.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Gwendolyn Brooks, it's a poem,
it was a poem, The Mother.
She's a very powerful poet.
As you know, it was
written in 1944, '45.
It's about abortion, right?
And it's a very, very,
very, very strong poem.
That's powerful!
But then in the States, you have
such wonderful poets, my god.
You have wonderful
poems, poets here.
Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.
America. I think that the whole,
the American continent
has wonderful poets.
I'm not speaking only about of
course I don't know very much
about Canadian literature,
unfortunately.
I don't know Canadian
poetry, but I know quite--
Latin America, for example.
This, I mean this,
this marvelous poets
in Latin America, you know?
Young, still writing whereas in
Europe, Europe is, for example,
German poetry, I
don't care that much
for contemporary German poetry.
I don't care that
much for French,
for contemporary French poetry.
It's very, how would you say?
Sorry? Yes, I don't know
if you agree with me.
It's very cerebral,
you know, it's-- .
Come on, it's all white
and white and then the wall
and the white and the whiteness.
And I don't have patience
for that, you know?
Whereas it has no flesh, it
has no, there's no blood,
there is no life, you know?
But you take Juan Gelman,
an Argentinian poet,
an enormous Argentinian poet.
[Foreign language],
another Argentinian poet.
But Juan died two or three years
ago, two years ago, I think.
My god, to know,
you, you start-- .
If you, if I read the book and
it makes my, if I read the poem
and it makes my whole body so
cold, no fire can ever warm it,
I know that is poetry.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: And I,
and I just saw a
little bit of this.
We were looking at some books
by Blake in the Rare Book
and Special Collections.
And it was really.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: I
can't thank you enough.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
It was really emotional.
And I saw her also leave that
and a recording, tired and all,
but she still went to
the main reading room.
What does she does
when she's resting?
She writes.
So-- .
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Because, I mean,
when you read by Blake, right?
You read these lines-- he wrote
these in the 18th century.
"Some are born to speak delight.
Some are born to endless night."
What could be more perfect, and
he's so true even now, you know?
Nowadays it makes all sense
because yes, some are born
to sweet delight, and some
are born to endless night.
There's people on
this planet mourning,
you know being born
to endless night.
The majority actually
is born being born
to endless night, you know?
And I thought the guy writes
these by the end of the 18th--
he was a very good friend
of Thomas Payne, by the way.
And all these, all these
radicals, you know,
were his friends, you know?
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
How about some contemporary
Portuguese poetry read
by Ana Luisa Amaral now?
From What's in a Name.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: In
English and Portuguese?
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: I
think you should read some
in Portuguese, and then a
translation in English because.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: I'm
sorry about my glasses.
They broke yesterday in the
plane, so I bought some tape.
Functions.
Okay.
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Do
you want to read from there?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Okay,
you want me to read from here?
That's better.
I think I'm going to start
with [foreign language].
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Because you know I get very
emotional with that one.
I'm kidding.
No. [Laughter] Ana Luisa
Amaral: Yeah, I think I'm going
to read it in Portuguese
and then in English, right?
Now my English isn't, I mean,
I'm not going to read it
as I want to read it,
really, you know in English.
[ Foreign Language ]
Testament.
I'm about to fly off
somewhere and my fear
of heights plus myself finds
me resorting to tranquilizers
and having confusing dreams.
If I should die, I want my
daughter always to remember me
for someone to sing to her
even if they can't hold a tune
to offer her pure dreams.
Rather than a fixed
timetable or a well-made bed.
To give her love and
[inaudible] inside things.
To dream of blue sands and
brilliant skies instead
of teaching her how to add
up and how to peel potatoes.
To prepare my daughter for
life, if I should die on a plane
and be separated from my body
and become a free-floating atom
in the sky, let my
daughter remember me.
And later on say to her own
daughter that I flew off
into the sky, and was all
dazzle and contentment to see
that in her house, none
of the sums added up,
and the potatoes were still in
their sack, forgotten and tired.
Okay.
[ Applause ]
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: We
recorded these for the archives
in [inaudible] two years ago.
And I had to stop
for like five minutes
because I could not
talk after, so.
And there she goes.
But that's poetry, I think.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Okay,
I will read another one
which is [inaudible] needs more.
Okay. It's, it dialogues with
William Blake, as you're going
to see in the end with
the wonderful poem, Tiger.
Tyger, tyger burning bright in
the forest-- that's the most.
Can I say something
before I read these?
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: You
can say anything you want.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: I, I
taught for 30 something years
at universities so I
had, I had hundreds
and hundreds of students.
And the best, the
very best thing
that I have ever experienced was
when in a demonstration,
you know?
In a [inaudible] in
a-- in a protest, yeah.
In a protest three years
ago in the streets.
Because I go to the streets and
protest and all of this, right?
There's this woman come to me
and said, "Hello, Professor!
Hello, look!
Tyger, tyger burning bright
in the forests of the night.
What immortal hand or eye, Could
frame thy fearful symmetry?
Do you see?
I still remember."
I'm like my god.
This was years and years ago.
She didn't remember anything
that the critics of
Blake had written.
[Laughter] Blake,
see that's, okay, so.
[ Foreign Language ]
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Schisms and Fires.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Let
me see if I can read this.
Schisms and Fires.
I woke up very early.
The light [inaudible] in through
the shutters was a soft light.
Startled from sleep, the
cat barreling me out,
or to speak metaphorically,
she wasn't burning bright.
And anyone not here could not
understand either the state
of schism in which I awoke.
No, I didn't say
[inaudible], I said schism.
That's a slow state
between sea and sea spray.
I drank a coffee,
squeezed some juice.
Me, the early riser, and the me
that didn't wake was watching,
lying here, half
mesmerized, half fearful,
observing me from afar.
Wishing I wasn't divided like
the forked tongue of the snake.
And then I looked up at the sun,
and my [inaudible] state
didn't ease, but seized
and invaded the house and the
sun that had been only sun,
suddenly darkened and became
an anti-sun like a torn wing,
and the cat burned
bright in the dark night.
So that's an interesting
poem, I think.
[ Applause ]
I'm going to read one
which is not here,
but I like it very much.
[ Inaudible ]
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Okay.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Okay,
because it's a little bit.
You know, I hope,
you know in English,
some people don't know
what a greasy spoon is.
You know what a greasy spoon is?
A coffee shop.
It's interesting
because in Portuguese, I,
I use [foreign language].
In Portuguese it means sly,
but it means also
dirty scruff, you know.
I mean they're very, very,
it's very difficult
to put it to English.
Because you don't, I
play with those words.
[ Foreign Language ]
So that's hard to put in--
Margaret did a wonderful job.
She put "greasy spoon,"
and then you know with
"greasy spoon" she
played, of course.
And I think, but it's
funny because some people
in England don't know
what the greasy spoon is.
Very, very, very
few, but some don't.
Anyway, Common Places.
In London, I went
into a greasy spoon.
It's not only us who
have greasy spoons.
The English, too.
And they once had
other things, too.
Now it's just Scotland and
a little bit of Ireland,
and those little tiny
islands, but anyway.
In London, I went
into a greasy spoon,
worse even than one
of our beach bars.
I say this for those who cannot
even imagine the things they
have there.
It was a proper greasy spoon.
Nothing was a spoon of course,
but it was greasy in the sense
that it was full of clutter and
greasy food, really low class.
Of course all my female
prejudices came to the fore
because the cafe was
full of mean eating eggs
and bacon and tomatoes.
In Portugal, it would be cheese
sandwiches, but I thought,
"I'm in London, I'm alone,
what do I care about men?"
Englishmen don't bother you
the way Portuguese men do,
and so on.
I went into the greasy spoon
with a plastic tree
in one corner.
It was only then that
I saw a woman sitting
and reading, and
I felt stronger.
I don't know why, but I did.
There was a tribe of 23 men
and her alone, and then me.
I ordered a coffee which wasn't
at all bad for a greasy spoon
like that, and the man
who served me said,
"There you are, Love."
I felt like saying, "I'm
not your bloody love,
or go to hell," or
something like that.
But then I thought,
"It's so deep
in the culture, and
he meant no harm.
And besides, I'll
be leaving soon.
I have a plane to catch.
What do I care?"
[Coughs] And I paid for my
coffee which wasn't at all bad.
And I sat for a while,
looking around,
watching them try beating
their eggs and bacon.
And then I saw what time
it was, and I thought,
"The taxi will be arriving any
moment, and I have to leave."
And when I got up.
The woman smiled.
She was saying, "That's it."
And she looked around at
the bacon and the eggs,
and the men all eating,
and I felt stronger.
I don't know why, but I felt
stronger, and I thought,
"It doesn't matter
if it's London or us,
that everywhere you
find the same."
I'm sorry about my-- [coughing].
[ Applause ]
Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
The water is too cold.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Oh, it's cold.
This is the only thing
that I have a problem
in the States is the--
well, not the only thing.
[Laughter] I have
problems, I'm sure you do too
with other things here.
And but the water here
is so, so, so cold.
And speaking of which and
the problems that we have.
I'm going to read [inaudible]
the poem titled What's
in a Name.
And I can, and I can say
something you know about this.
What's in a Name is, as you
know, from Romeo and Juliet.
There's, I mean Shakespeare
has everything, right?
His poetry because
his plays are poetry,
of course are full studies on
jealousy, on power, on love,
on-- I mean on everything,
right?
On what power, how power
corrupts a person, [inaudible].
I mean, everything
is in Shakespeare.
And Romeo and Juliet,
these, these,
those two lines,
what's in a name?
That's Juliet speaking, right?
Because after that, "Oh,
Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore,
wherefore art thou, Romeo."
Those two famous lines, right?
They're at the balcony scene.
"Oh Romeo, Romeo!
Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"
And then of course, I mean
it's not because he's Romeo,
it's because he, being Romeo
makes him part of that family.
Therefore he's her enemy.
And after that, she
says, "What's in a name?"
She asks this question,
"What's in a name?
That which we call a rose,
by any other name
would smell as sweet."
And we will never know
if, were we to call a rose
by another name, you know?
If it would smell differently?
Well, actually modern roses
don't smell, but imagine,
let's imagine that they do smell
anymore, unfortunately, very,
very, very, very small.
But I think it's a
wonderful question, isn't it?
Because we'll never know, but
to, I mean what's in a name?
There's a lot in a
name, as we know.
To be Abdul, for example,
nowadays is a big
problem, you know?
To be Samuel, to have been
Samuel in Hitler's Germany.
To be Samuel nowadays
in France, for example.
In France!
I mean, in Paris
about six months ago,
there was an enormous
demonstration in the streets.
That said-- .
[ Foreign Language ]
"Out with the Jews and
the, [foreign language].
That kind of fabric, how
do you say that in English?
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Lycre?
Lycra? Lycra?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: Lycra!
And you know what it was?
I mean Lycra is a
metaphor for [inaudible].
So you see, away,
out with [inaudible]
and the, and the Jews.
This big demonstration
in France,
you know in Paris,
this demonstration.
So yes, you know to be Samuel
nowadays in France, it's also--
so there's a lot in
a name, you know?
And I have this poem
titled precisely, you know.
I'm not going to [inaudible]
but that's okay, I have it here.
What's in a Name.
And it mixes, as you're going
to see, it mixes Juliet it
with our history
right [inaudible].
My question, the
question is mine,
but then Juliet speaks as well.
[ Foreign Language ]
What's in a Name?
Tell me: what's in a name?
How solid is a name
if answered to,
by what parallel
wars is it sustained?
Lineages, subject lands, races
tamed by a few syllables,
history's foundations set in
laws forged in fire and flame?
Remove the name and love will
still remain, as will you
and I - even in death,
even if only as myth.
Yes, even as myth (do you
hear?), even our brief history
that some will read
as mere inert matter,
will remain for our
all-too-human eternity.
And others will always
take it up,
when their century
most needs it.
And my love, my stronger
half, we, for them,
will be like the rose - No, like
its perfume: ungovernable free.
[ Applause ]
[Foreign language] And now,
a very short one titled [foreign
language], Mediterranean.
Of course it's a reference
to what's happening right
at the basin of the
Mediterranean.
And the refugees, right?
All those people who
die in that basin.
I mean, trying to enter,
trying to come in Europe.
But it's not only,
it's not only the,
the reference to the refugees.
It doesn't speak only
about the refugees.
It speaks also about the walls
that are being built, you know,
in Europe, in Hungary.
Not only there, here
as well, of course,
you know, or trying to be.
And that precious, as
it says here, you know?
The dense seemingly vital
fluid measured out in tons,
which of course is
the oil, you know?
And in the name of other
things, in the name of freedom,
in the name of democracy,
in the name of-I don't
know what, you know.
In the name of so many,
so many other things.
Awful, awful, in the name
of those exploited
ones we make the wars.
You know we start the wars.
The wars are started, so
it's called Mediterranean,
[foreign language].
And it has a [inaudible]
which is mine.
I mean it's not, it has two
lines, this and an epigraph.
But it's very interesting.
These two lines were from a poem
that I wrote years
ago I found in my box.
And the poem has two
pages, and I ruined the poem
because I took those two
lines, and I wrote another poem
with these two lines, okay?
[ Foreign Language ]
Mediterranean.
The seas of Homer cease to
bring the slender ships.
In the name of the nameless, it
goes on across sandy deserts,
meaningless deserts, it goes on.
In faces in the desert,
shapeless,
nameless faces, it goes on.
In the depths of the desert,
drops of blood, grains of sand,
the Sphinx within the
desert, it goes on.
In the name of the dense,
seemingly vital fluid measured
out in tons, still it goes on.
The divine wheel slowly grinding
fine flour, futile seas of dust.
[ Applause ]
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Let's
open the floor to questions,
if someone has a
question for Ana Luisa.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Thank you very much.
[ Inaudible Question ]
What's the name of the book?
[ Foreign Language ]
[ Inaudible Question ]
Thank you very much.
Thank you very much.
I am now working
on a book of poems.
Actually, if I may say just two
things more, you know before,
because I know that
[foreign language].
Just two things more.
When I was saying to write a
poem, for me it's much easier
to write poem than to make a
book, than to prepare a book.
For example, I had a sequence
titled East of Eden which is
in a book of mine
called Sometimes Eden.
It's there.
And that, that sequence, East
of Eden, which is a sequence
of 17 poems, that dialogue about
scenes of the Bible, you know?
The Prodigal Son, the other
son, brother of the prodigal
because usually you only
speak about the Prodigal Son.
What about the other
one, you know?
The poor one who stayed there,
you know worked for his father?
And then when his
father comes, you know,
after frolicking around, you
know the father says, "Hey,
let's kill the fatter
calf you know
for your poor brother,
you know, was there.
And he arrives, he
came back, you know?
And we should praise God
because he came back."
And the other was there
faithfully serving his father.
So anyway it's these,
it's, it's a sequence,
and that sequence
was already written
when I published my first book.
But it did not fit there, and
it did not fit in the second,
and it did not fit in the
third, nor the fourth.
And it had to go
to the fifth book.
You know it was only then,
there that it made sense.
So that's when I say it's very,
very hard to prepare a book,
you know to make
a book, I'd say.
And I'm working now in another
sequence of, in another sequence
of poems about precisely,
precisely the Bible, you know?
Continuing that, and one
of them, for example,
is about Lot's wife, which I can
because I don't, I don't know
if everyone remembers
the story of the wife
of Lot, of Lot's wife, right?
Lot was in Sodom and Gomorrah.
I don't know the
names in English.
Sodom and Gomorrah,
and Gomorrah, right?
And an angel of God
came and said, "Run!
Go, go, go with your,
take your-- ."
He had two daughters,
this is important.
"Take your daughters
and your wife and leave
because the Lord is coming
to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah
because of their immoral,
their immoral behavior."
So he ran away, but
he, the angel,
"You should not look back.
You cannot look back."
So he came, you know
with his wife
and this daughters,
and they ran away.
His wife looked back,
and she was transformed
into a statue of salt.
And after that, the
Bible goes on.
What happens?
He sleeps with his daughters.
I don't know if you
remember that.
This, this, this
episode is not very,
and it is with them
that he has children.
He has children with
his two daughters,
and those children are,
they start a new lineage
or two new lineages, right?
So this is Lot's wife,
it's his wife speaking.
And as you know, the salt
in those days was a
very important thing.
"Salary" comes from "sal",
from the word "sal" right?
People were paid in salt.
Salt was very, very important.
It was very precious
and expensive matter.
Lot's Wife.
I'm going to read it in
English and then in Portuguese.
What would you do with me
if you'd had the
courage to-- I'm sorry.
So he doesn't stop.
Of course, he runs with his kids
because she's there, you know,
made salt for looking back.
Okay, Lot's Wife.
What would you do with me if
you'd had the courage to stop,
not me as I was before.
The one who lay with you.
The me without a
name, only your name,
who gave you daughters,
baked your bread.
What would you do with me,
not me as I was before,
but me now transformed
into a statue?
How many pounds of salt, a
fortune, could you have now
if your courage hadn't
failed you then.
All those acres heavy
with fruit and grain,
not golden calves,
but real ones.
Who knows?
Perhaps that longed for
a piece of Promised Land
of which you dreamed
when you slept?
But I stayed there,
gazing forever
at the city now absent,
the nameless me.
And not even the rain
of fire that fell
from the skies could turn me
into water, redemptive water.
Nor did you grow
rich on my body.
You did though, lie with my body
when you lay with my daughters,
your daughters lying by
your side on the mat.
And they gave you children
who did have names and flesh
in their lines, not
salt, but real flesh.
[ Foreign Language ]
[ Applause ]
[ Foreign Language ]
[ Inaudible Question ]
What I thought was kind of
relation of [inaudible].
You see, you see
I have a problem
because I, myself was a teacher.
I was a uni-- I am a
university teacher.
I, myself, I mean, I,
I, I learned all those,
how do you say all those tricks
because of tricks
to read a poem.
I mean, you learn all those
ways, you know to read
and to interpret and to
approach, you know a poem.
All those theories, let's say.
I, I, when I write,
I write not thinking
about anything, you see?
I think there are two
moments in, in, in poetry,
when you write a poem, for me.
I write a poem for myself.
When I write, I write
for myself.
Actually, I have poem that
says that [foreign language].
All the poem is about
the one who writes,
about him and it, you know?
So [foreign language].
So only after the poem is ready
comes the time to communicate.
I think that after,
after the poem is done,
just like after painting is, is
finished, after a, a music is,
you know finished
being composed.
You need to, to, to communicate.
I think you need to
share with the others.
I mean, that's, that's
a human trait, right?
Communication, we
need to communicate.
We need to show it,
let's say, to the others.
We want to share it.
I will share it with
the other, you know?
But it was in a way a
controlled audience, you know,
because they were my friends.
They were the people
I would choose,
but they were still a public.
They were an audience,
let's say.
Like Dickinson.
Dickinson only published,
only self-published ten
poems during her lifetime.
But she was being, she published
herself through her letters
to her friends, right?
I mean, it is a way of
becoming public, let's say.
It was not the same of
the public that when,
when she writes, "I'm nobody.
Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us.
Don't tell, they'd
advertise, you know?
How dreary to be somebody?
How public like a frog.
To tell one's name
the livelong June.
To lifelong, I don't
know how you say it.
To an admiring bog, right?
So how public like a frog!
So it's that kind
of public, right?
That she, that she
didn't want or couldn't.
Anyway, I was afraid
of that, you know.
I was afraid that a critic would
come and [foreign language].
No? [inaudible] So I was afraid
that critics would come and say,
"Ah, she does this,
she does that."
And then that would
make me self-conscious
when I would write
my poems, you know?
And I, that relationship
of innocence, you know?
A way of openness that
I had with the word.
I was afraid of losing it, yeah.
I hope not.
I hope not, I hope not.
Also, you know because I, I
am a bit, I'll say childish,
not in the bad, in
the bad way, you know?
Yes, I mean I, I don't
notice, you know.
I don't have much alter ego
for some scenes, you know?
An alter ego.
[Inaudible]You know,
you don't control much,
you know self-control
in, in somethings, right?
And I was afraid of that.
Then it was also think
about I am preparing a book,
and I was afraid
of showing myself.
I didn't want that,
I didn't want that.
I didn't want that.
And then, well it went well.
I mean after I started one,
I never stopped, you know.
But yes, I was 33 years old
when I published my first book
which is not very
common, you know.
Usually people publish before
then, but I never wanted to-- .
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez: Well,
we hope you don't
stop anytime soon,
and that you keep publishing.
And that you come back to the
Library of Congress to read
and to talk about book with us.
Do you promise?
>> Ana Luisa Amaral: I
promise, [foreign language]!
>> Talia Guzman-Gonzalez:
Thank you so much.
>> Ana Luisa Amaral:
Thank you very much.
I thank you.
[ Applause ]
.