From Booklist
All the known poetry by the most important Puerto Rican woman poet of the century is gathered in this significant publication--more than 200 poems, some that have often been anthologized as well as others that have been "lost" in out-of-print publications for many years. A labor of love for translator Agueros--who remembers seeing Burgos on the streets of New York when he was young--the big dual language edition reveals a woman of fire and blood, as passionate in her love for her mountain homeland as for the men who shared her life. Feminist, revolutionary, patriotic, Burgos adopted a sibylline voice, full of expansive power: "My road is space. / To travel me is to flee from all the paths. . . . / I am the dancing imbalance of the stars." Burgos (1914^-53) died in poverty in New York but now may receive the rich reputation that was denied her in life. Patricia Monaghan
From Library Journal
Although she published only two small books of verse in her lifetime, de Burgos (1914-53) has now attained almost legendary status in her native Puerto Rico. This bilingual edition marks the first time all her known poetic works have been compiled in one volume. The translations are accurate, but their order is problematic; because it is not strictly chronological, it is difficult for the reader not only to determine which poems emanate from which original collection but also which ones were originally unpublished. The 200 short poems speak for themselves: timeless themes of love, nature, solitude, and death connect with water images as seen in her paean to the Puerto Rican river, "Rio Grande de Loiza." Her occasional feminist sentiments make her even more attractive to contemporary audiences. Recommended for all poetry collections.?Lawrence Olszewski, OCLC Lib., Dublin, Ohio
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Über das Produkt
From the Introduction
One summery day in Puerto Rican East Harlem, I leaned on the sidewalk fence in front of the headquarters of the Association of Puerto Rican Postal Employees. The three story brick building on 109th Street near the corner of Lexington Avenue and its ample stoop were a favorite hang-out for our gang, the Senecas. Sometimes twelve or fifteen of us would sit all over the steps leading to the parlor floor entrance. The caretakers of the building were very tolerant of our congregating on their steps and did not normally chase us away. They knew us to be one of the peaceful gangs of East Harlem in those years when I was just a teen-ager--the 1950s.
That particular day there was just myself and a man whose name I now forget--a street friend who frequently stopped to chat and tell us jokes. That day, standing in a hot sun, we were talking in the late afternoon. Suddenly, a group of four or five men came around the corner and with them there was a woman. The men were all ruddy and disheveled. They spoke and laughed loudly and you could see several pints of rum or wine among them. We assumed that they had just come from the liquor store on 110th Street and Lexington Avenue.
In the midst of the five men there was a woman. A tall woman, as tall as the tallest man, and taller than several of them. As the animated band walked by, my friend straightened up and watched them intensely. When they had passed, he asked me, "Do you know who that woman was?" I said "no," expecting him to crack some joke. But he remained very serious and looking after the swaying chattering group said, "That was Julia de Burgos, Puerto Rico's most famous poet." I looked at him for signs that he was kidding, but he was dead serious. Then he looked at me and said "You have to be careful drinking."
Then the conversation changed, and I forgot about Julia de Burgos until one day I was about to enter Central Park at the Pioneer's Gate on 110th Street, when I noticed off to the left of the lion-mouthed, horse-watering fountain, a group of men sitting and standing near one of the benches on Fifth Avenue outside the park. Sitting on the bench was Julia de Burgos. But I was too self conscious to stare, an
One summery day in Puerto Rican East Harlem, I leaned on the sidewalk fence in front of the headquarters of the Association of Puerto Rican Postal Employees. The three story brick building on 109th Street near the corner of Lexington Avenue and its ample stoop were a favorite hang-out for our gang, the Senecas. Sometimes twelve or fifteen of us would sit all over the steps leading to the parlor floor entrance. The caretakers of the building were very tolerant of our congregating on their steps and did not normally chase us away. They knew us to be one of the peaceful gangs of East Harlem in those years when I was just a teen-ager--the 1950s.
That particular day there was just myself and a man whose name I now forget--a street friend who frequently stopped to chat and tell us jokes. That day, standing in a hot sun, we were talking in the late afternoon. Suddenly, a group of four or five men came around the corner and with them there was a woman. The men were all ruddy and disheveled. They spoke and laughed loudly and you could see several pints of rum or wine among them. We assumed that they had just come from the liquor store on 110th Street and Lexington Avenue.
In the midst of the five men there was a woman. A tall woman, as tall as the tallest man, and taller than several of them. As the animated band walked by, my friend straightened up and watched them intensely. When they had passed, he asked me, "Do you know who that woman was?" I said "no," expecting him to crack some joke. But he remained very serious and looking after the swaying chattering group said, "That was Julia de Burgos, Puerto Rico's most famous poet." I looked at him for signs that he was kidding, but he was dead serious. Then he looked at me and said "You have to be careful drinking."
Then the conversation changed, and I forgot about Julia de Burgos until one day I was about to enter Central Park at the Pioneer's Gate on 110th Street, when I noticed off to the left of the lion-mouthed, horse-watering fountain, a group of men sitting and standing near one of the benches on Fifth Avenue outside the park. Sitting on the bench was Julia de Burgos. But I was too self conscious to stare, an
Kurzbeschreibung
From the Introduction
One summery day in Puerto Rican East Harlem, I leaned on the sidewalk fence in front of the headquarters of the Association of Puerto Rican Postal Employees. The three story brick building on 109th Street near the corner of Lexington Avenue and its ample stoop were a favorite hang-out for our gang, the Senecas. Sometimes twelve or fifteen of us would sit all over the steps leading to the parlor floor entrance. The caretakers of the building were very tolerant of our congregating on their steps and did not normally chase us away. They knew us to be one of the peaceful gangs of East Harlem in those years when I was just a teen-ager--the 1950s.
That particular day there was just myself and a man whose name I now forget--a street friend who frequently stopped to chat and tell us jokes. That day, standing in a hot sun, we were talking in the late afternoon. Suddenly, a group of four or five men came around the corner and with them there was a woman. The men were all ruddy and disheveled. They spoke and laughed loudly and you could see several pints of rum or wine among them. We assumed that they had just come from the liquor store on 110th Street and Lexington Avenue.
In the midst of the five men there was a woman. A tall woman, as tall as the tallest man, and taller than several of them. As the animated band walked by, my friend straightened up and watched them intensely. When they had passed, he asked me, "Do you know who that woman was?" I said "no," expecting him to crack some joke. But he remained very serious and looking after the swaying chattering group said, "That was Julia de Burgos, Puerto Rico's most famous poet." I looked at him for signs that he was kidding, but he was dead serious. Then he looked at me and said "You have to be careful drinking."
Then the conversation changed, and I forgot about Julia de Burgos until one day I was about to enter Central Park at the Pioneer's Gate on 110th Street, when I noticed off to the left of the lion-mouthed, horse-watering fountain, a group of men sitting and standing near one of the benches on Fifth Avenue outside the park. Sitting on the bench was Julia de Burgos. But I was too self conscious to stare, an
One summery day in Puerto Rican East Harlem, I leaned on the sidewalk fence in front of the headquarters of the Association of Puerto Rican Postal Employees. The three story brick building on 109th Street near the corner of Lexington Avenue and its ample stoop were a favorite hang-out for our gang, the Senecas. Sometimes twelve or fifteen of us would sit all over the steps leading to the parlor floor entrance. The caretakers of the building were very tolerant of our congregating on their steps and did not normally chase us away. They knew us to be one of the peaceful gangs of East Harlem in those years when I was just a teen-ager--the 1950s.
That particular day there was just myself and a man whose name I now forget--a street friend who frequently stopped to chat and tell us jokes. That day, standing in a hot sun, we were talking in the late afternoon. Suddenly, a group of four or five men came around the corner and with them there was a woman. The men were all ruddy and disheveled. They spoke and laughed loudly and you could see several pints of rum or wine among them. We assumed that they had just come from the liquor store on 110th Street and Lexington Avenue.
In the midst of the five men there was a woman. A tall woman, as tall as the tallest man, and taller than several of them. As the animated band walked by, my friend straightened up and watched them intensely. When they had passed, he asked me, "Do you know who that woman was?" I said "no," expecting him to crack some joke. But he remained very serious and looking after the swaying chattering group said, "That was Julia de Burgos, Puerto Rico's most famous poet." I looked at him for signs that he was kidding, but he was dead serious. Then he looked at me and said "You have to be careful drinking."
Then the conversation changed, and I forgot about Julia de Burgos until one day I was about to enter Central Park at the Pioneer's Gate on 110th Street, when I noticed off to the left of the lion-mouthed, horse-watering fountain, a group of men sitting and standing near one of the benches on Fifth Avenue outside the park. Sitting on the bench was Julia de Burgos. But I was too self conscious to stare, an
Über den Autor
Julia de Burgos, born in Puerto Rico in 1914, was an accomplished poet and journalist who was revolutionary in her politics, poetry, and feminism. Avidly supporting the cause of Puerto Rican independence, she was also an internationalist who was anti-Franco, anti-Trujillo, and anti-Somoza. As a feminist and Puerto Rican independentista she paid for her convictions and strength by being persecuted as a political figure. A cultural ico, Julia de Burgos was shamefully neglected as a poet during her lifetime. She died in New York City in 1953.
