Rocío Cerón

& Dana Delibovi (translator)

Back to Issue 3.3

Translator’s Note:

Rocío Cerón writes poetry of the body. To read her poems is to experience images in the flesh. The thigh muscle tightens. The skin inside the wrist tingles. Warmth spreads over us in slow waves. Catching and holding the physicality of Cerón’s poems challenged me as a translator. The sensuous tonality of the poetry arises largely from the poet’s energetic noun phrases, largely free of adjectives, which are often more robust than equivalent English noun phrases. The same holds true for Cerón’s use of the passive or impersonal “se” for some verbs associated with noun phrases. The Spanish “se” form carries a far less docile, submissive, or detached quality than the English passive constructed with “to be” before a past participle. 


To capture the weight and power of Cerón’s language, I often replaced a Spanish noun phrase or an impersonal “se” verb with an English translation that included an active, indicative verb. I also searched for opportunities to alternate quickly between Anglo-Saxon and Latinate words in English, to give the translations the changing rhythm of physical movements.

I chose, however, to remain faithful to Cerón’s limited use of adjectives. By avoiding adjective overload, Cerón intensifies her poems. I did not want to lose that intensity, especially in Cerón’s chosen form, the prose poem. The best prose poems in English—Charles Simic and Ada Limón come to mind—rarely modify their nouns. As a result, people, objects, and their actions shine through. This is also the case in Cerón’s work. Her poems of the body also have a body—an idiom to touch, see, hear, and taste. In translating Cerón, I want to honor this body and give it expression in English.

Five Movements on a Gesture Traced in Air

12:56

Sobre pliegues la edad, curso de tiempo que anticipa: la vida, lo que se estabiliza, lo que se desestabiliza (en la contracción ya se anuncia una historia, realidad que será ficción: ficción plegada a piel/ a pulso). El lugar del muslo, un nudo donde se guarda una constelación, universo donde se cierne toda la vestidura de la epidermis.

Lunar, sinfonía de lunares en brazo izquierdo.

Partitura de signos donde se craquela la fe. Gesto y roce donde los cuerpos se amparan mutuamente.

Cantata.

12:56 PM

In the folds of the skin, age. Time’s flow anticipates this: Life, which stabilizes and destabilizes (and in this spasm, a story is already told: reality that will be fiction; fiction folding into skin/ into pulse). The thigh’s place, a knot that holds a constellation, a universe draped with the whole garment of the epidermis.

A mole, a symphony of moles on the left arm.

Musical notation where faith is fissured. Gesture and touch where bodies try to protect each other.

A cantata.

13:07

El contorno de la espalda, la llama de las sombras donde se guarda una caricia. Cuerpo con memoria, con cada dedo (sentidos del otro en cuerpo ajeno) el contorno relata la curvatura propia. Enunciar desde la proximidad la nomenclatura del deseo. Canciones, murmullos, los senderos que se establecen entre las grietas de las corvas. Hendiduras de tiempo, inclinación gestual donde se precipita la muerte. Huecos, musculatura, grasa en cráteres entre los huesos y la nervadura sanguínea que se niega a hablar: sílabas etéreas—susurro—: el sonido/ torcedura/ de cada pliegue.

1:07 PM

The contour of the back, the flame of shadows holding the caress. Body with memory, the shape narrating its own curvature with each finger (sensing another in another’s body). Enunciating the nomenclature of desire from a place of intimacy. Songs, murmurs, the paths created between the fibers of the hamstrings. Fracture in time, the body-language that brings on death. Hollows; muscles; fat that refuses to talk, nestled in the craters between bone and vasculature: ethereal syllables—I whisper—: the sound/ the twist/ of every fold.

13:28

La circularidad de un pensamiento. Lo que el cuerpo acarrea en las venas (metáfora). Lo líquido de las bahías y cauces interiores. ¿Se esconde entre las corvas? Mirada perdida en horizonte exacto: liquen. Fragilidad de la costa en punto ciego. Atajo o viento que cubre el vuelo de cierta palabra. La mano cruza, toca el rostro apenas, apuntando hacia el sitio donde hay murmullos, sólo murmullos. La exactitud de un balbuceo interior donde la manera verdadera de las voces del padre se acumulan detrás del oído izquierdo. La blancura de la mano de Eleonora, que recorre los contornos de un elefante imaginario. Y esa sonrisa, esa media sonrisa de la comisura de su boca.

1:28 PM

The circularity of a thought. What the body carries in the veins (a metaphor). Liquidity of the bays and riverbeds inside us. Does it hide in the backs of the knees? A blank stare toward the true horizon: lichen. The fragility of the coastline at a blind curve. A shortcut, a breeze covering the flight of a certain word. The hand crosses yet barely touches the face, gesturing toward the locus of murmurs, only murmurs. The exactitude of an inner babble, building up the truth of fathers’ voices behind the left ear. The whiteness of Eleanor’s hand as it traces the contours of an imaginary elephant. And that smile, that half smile from the corner of her mouth.

13:40

Se confunde el surco donde los cardos han dejado marcas. Rebalse. Cardumen de peces agitándose entre piernas. Ebullición de sangre en ramificaciones. Abrasiva. La marcha sobre el muslo se expande. Cada centímetro es inicio. Toda división, inexacta. Rebalse. Las hojas de los árboles caían encima de sus hombros. Entonces callaba el mundo.

1:40 PM

Where thistles have left their marks, the rut is disturbed. Overflowing. A school of fish thrashing between the legs. Boiling blood in the branching vessels. Abrasive. The thigh’s stride wider and wider. Every centimeter is a beginning. Every division, inaccurate. Overflowing. The leaves fell from the trees onto her shoulders. Then the world fell silent.

13:53

La irregularidad de la postura, los pesos del cuerpo se acomodan dependiendo de la vulnerabilidad. Cada herida sobrepasa y extiende un aura. Contrapesos. La sensibilidad del ombligo; el recuerdo del vientre, la acuosidad de la palabra madre. Los pesos restituyen el fracaso de la mente. En silencio se acomodan pliegues, hendiduras, estancias. Rebalse.

Granito y tabaco sobresalen. Paisaje. Manos anudan en el aire una sonata—cuando el viaje instituye el horizonte, el tiempo gravita sobre el ojo. Liquen. Mata de arbustos, desierto donde se agrietan los labios por no decir tu nombre.

1:53 PM

Irregular posture, the accommodation of the body’s bulk depending on its vulnerability. Each wound transcends and extends an aura. Counterweights. The navel’s umbilical sensitivity; the remembrance of the womb; the aqueous word “mother.” Heaviness repairs the failure of the mind. In silence comes the adaptation to the body’s creases, fissures, abodes. Overflowing.

Granite and tobacco stand out. Landscape. Hands knot a sonata in the air—when the journey creates the horizon, time gravitates over the eye. Lichen. Underbrush, desert where the lips crack because they do not say your name.

Author: ROCÍO CERÓN is a Mexico City-based poet, essayist and visual sound artist. Cerón is the author of fourteen poetry collections, including Nudo VortexBorealisEmpire and Diorama (translated by Anna Rosenwong, winner of the Best Translated Book Award 2015 awarded by Rochester University). Her work has been awarded the Owen Prize and the National System of Art Creators of Mexico Prize. Cerón was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2023 and received a Michael Rothenberg International Poets Grant in the same year. She has released three sound poetry albums, Sonic bubblesMiiuni, and Speculari, and her sound, visual, and performance poetry pieces have been exhibited in international venues including the Southbank Centre, London and the Museum of Modern Art, Mexico. Julio Ortega, one of Latin America’s most acclaimed literary critics, chose Cerón as one of the best women poets of her generation. Full bio at: https://www.rocioceron.com/bio.

Translator: DANA DELIBOVI is a poet, essayist, and translator. Her new book of translations and essays, Sweet Hunter: The Complete Poems of St. Teresa of Ávila, was published by Monkfish Books in 2024. Delibovi’s work has appeared in After the Art, Apple Valley Review, Bluestem, Ekstasis, Fish Barrel Review, Noon, Psaltery & Lyre, Salamander, Spinozablue, and many other journals. She is a 2020 Pushcart Prize nominee, a 2020 Best American Essays notable essayist, a 2024 Best of the Net nominee, and co-winner of the 2023 Hueston Woods Poetry Contest. Delibovi is consulting poetry editor at the literary e-zine Cable Street