Tarumba: The Selected Poems

by Jamie Sabines, Ernesto Trejo, Philip Levine (Translation)

Jaime Sabines is a national treasure in Mexico. He is considered by Octavio Paz to be instrumental to the genesis of modern Latin American poetry and “one of the best poets” of the Spanish language. Toward the end of his life, he had published for over fifty years and brought in crowds of more than 3,000 to a readings in his native country. Coined the “Sniper of Literature” by Cuban poet Roberto Fernández Retamar, Sabines brought poetry to the streets. His vernacular, authentic poems are meant not for other poets, or the established or elite, but for himself and for the people.

In this translation of his fourth book, Tarumba, we find ourselves stepping into Sabines’ streets, brothels, hospitals, and cantinas; the most bittersweet details are told in a way that “Life bursts from you, like scarlet fever, without warning.” Eloquently co-translated by Philip Levine and the late Ernesto Trejo, this bilingual edition is a classic for Spanish- and English-speaking readers alike. Secretive, wild, and searching, these poems are rife with such intensity you’ll feel “heaven is sucking you up through the roof.”

Jaime Sabines was born on March 25, 1926 in Chiapas, Mexico. In 1945, he relocated to Mexico City where he studied Medicine for three years before turning his attention to Philosophy and Literature at the University of Mexico. He wrote eight books of poetry, including Horal (1950), Tarumba (1956), and Maltiempo (1972), for which he received the Xavier Villaurrutia Award. In 1959, Sabines was granted the Chiapas Prize and, in 1983, the National Literature Award. In addition to his literary career, Sabines served as a congressman for Chiapas. Jaime Sabines died in 1999; he remains one of Mexico’s most respected poets.   Philip Levine (translator) was born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1928. He is the author of sixteen books of poetry, most recently Breath (Alfred A. Knopf, 2004). His other poetry collections include The Mercy (1999); The Simple Truth (1994), which won the Pulitzer Prize; What Work Is (1991), which won the National Book Award; New Selected Poems (1991); Poems New and Old (1979), which received the National Book Critics Circle Award and the first American Book Award for Poetry; 7 Years From Somewhere (1979), which won the National Book Critics Circle Award; and The Names of the Lost (1975), which won the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize. He has received the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize, the Harriet Monroe Memorial Prize from Poetry, the Frank O'Hara Prize, and two Guggenheim Foundation fellowships. Philip Levine lives in New York City and Fresno, California, and teaches at New York University.

Genres: Poetry

128 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1979

Reviews

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

For days now I've wanted to throw
myself under any caress or any word.
It's rough tonight.
[...]

I want her to the depth of each abyss,
to the last flight
of the last wing, when the whole flesh
will no longer be flesh nor the soul
soul. Love is necessary. I found that out.
I love her, this tough, warm, true woman.

[Jordan W · Rating 5 out of 5]

So glad I stumbled upon Tarumba for two reasons. First of course is the poetry. Jaime Sabines writes beautifully on his vividly experienced grit of (post)modern existence. His poetry is inspired, familial and without pretension. A welcome re-entry into reading poetry for me.

Tarumba's gripping verse isn't all the svelte book has going for it. Ingeniously, the odd numbered pages are written in the author's original Spanish and the facing page is translated into English. It was such a great way to review my dusty Spanish vocabulary. Slowly reading and translating the poems also gives an intermediate Spanish speaker and appreciation for Sabines' humble and simultaneously profound economic style.

Short and sweet-awesome book for Spanish speakers, English speakers, poetry readers seasoned or sampling.

[raluca · Rating 5 out of 5]

You can take the moon every two hours
either with a tablespoon or in capsules.
It works as a tranquilizer and a sedative
and it also relieves
a hangover from OD-ing on philosophy.
In your pocket a ray of moonlight
is a surer charm than a rabbit’s foot:
with it you’ll find the beloved
or get secretly rich
and avoid doctors and clinics.
It calms and sweetens children
who can’t fall asleep,
and a few drops of the moon in the eyes of the old
can help them find a good death.

Put a fresh leaf of the moon
under your pillow
and you’ll see whatever you want to see.
Always carry a small flask of moon air
to breathe when you go under,
and donate the key to the moon
to prisoners and the others without hope.
For anyone condemned to death,
for anyone condemned to life
there’s no better medicine than the moon,
taken regularly in the prescribed dose.

[Tatyana · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I’m dead tired. More tired of using my heart
every day than my legs."
-from “With Nerves Trailing”

"Here alone, soft night,
the smoke of insomnia, the sad bed."
- from “Between Floors”

"It’s rough tonight. Against the walls
the darkness crawls as slowly as the dead"
- from “Between Floors”

[Luis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Niña muerte, descansa
en nuestros brazos quietos.

En la sombra, descansa
junto a nuestro cuerpo.
Cómete mis ojos
para mirar adentro,
acaba mis labios,
mi boca, el silencio,
bébete mi alma,
bébete mi pecho,
niña muerte, mía,
que yo te mantengo.

La tierra está negra,
mi dolor es negro.
Vacía está mi caja,
vacío está mi cuerpo.

Niña muerte, gota
de rocío en mi pelo.