Discussion questions:
1. Read the text assigned to you. On the margins register your reactions to the mix of
languages.
2. Why does the writer/translator use more than one language? What is the point?
3. Does the writer/translator assist the reader in understanding the foreign language? Why or
why not? How?
4. What is the rhetorical point in using another language?
1. Rhina P. Espaillat (b. 1032 Dominican Republic) Bilingual/Bilingüe
My father liked them separate, one there,
one here (allá y aquí), as if aware
that words might cut in two his daughter’s heart
(el corazón) and lock the alien part
to what he was—his memory, his name
(su nombre)—with a key he could not claim.
“English outside this door, Spanish inside,”
he said, “y basta.” But who can divide
the world, the word (mundo y palabra) from
any child? I knew how to be dumb
and stubborn (testaruda); late, in bed,
I hoarded secret syllables I read
until my tongue (mi lengua) learned to run
where his stumbled. And still the heart was one.
I like to think he knew that, even when,
proud (orgulloso) of his daughter’s pen,
he stood outside mis versos, half in fear
of words he loved but wanted not to hear.
Rhina P. Espaillat, “Bilingual/Bilingüe” from Where Horizons Go (Kirksville, MO: New Odyssey
Books, 1998).
2. AmeRícan by TATO LAVIERA
we gave birth to a new generation,
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AmeRícan, broader than lost gold
never touched, hidden inside the
puerto rican mountains.
we gave birth to a new generation
AmeRícan, it includes everything
imaginable you-name-it-we-got-it
society.
we gave birth to a new generation,
AmeRícan salutes all folklores,
european, indian, black, spanish
and anything else compatible:
AmeRícan, singing to composer pedro flores' palm
trees up high in the universal sky!
AmeRícan, sweet soft spanish danzas gypsies
moving lyrics la española cascabelling
presence always singing at our side!
AmeRícan, beating jíbaro modern troubadours
crying guitars romantic continental
bolero love songs!
AmeRícan, across forth and across back
back across and forth back
forth across and back and forth
our trips are walking bridges!
it all dissolved into itself, an attempt
was truly made, the attempt was truly
absorbed, digested, we spit out
the poison, we spit out in malice,
we stand, affirmative in action,
to reproduce a broader answer to the
marginality that gobbled us up abruptly!
AmeRícan, walking plena-rhythms in new york,
strutting beautifully alert, alive
many turning eyes wondering,
admiring!
AmeRícan, defining myself my own way any way many
many ways Am e Rícan, with the big R and the
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accent on the í!
AmeRícan, like the soul gliding talk of gospel
boogie music!
AmeRícan, speaking new words in spanglish tenements,
fast tongue moving street corner "que
corta" talk being invented at the insistence
of a smile!
AmeRícan, abounding inside so many ethnic english
people, and out of humanity, we blend
and mix all that is good!
AmeRícan, integrating in new york and defining our
own destino, our own way of life,
AmeRícan, defining the new america, humane america,
admired america, loved america, harmonious
america, the world in peace, our energies
collectively invested to find other civili-
zations, to touch God, further and further,
to dwell in the spirit of divinity!
AmeRícan, yes, for now, for i love this, my second
land, and i dream to take the accent from
the altercation, and be proud to call
myself american, in the u.s. sense of the
word, AmeRícan, America!
Tato Laviera, "AmeRícan" from Benedición: The Complete Poetry of Tato Laviera. Copyright ©
2014 by Tato Laviera. Reprinted by permission of Arte Público Press. Source: Benedición: The
Complete Poetry of Tato Laviera (Arte Público Press, 2014)
3. "Si le preguntas a mi mamá, ¿Qué eres?" (from Gloria Anzaldua Borderlands/La Frontera)
Identity is the essential core of who we are as individuals, the conscious experience of the self
inside.
--Kaufman (3)
Nosotros los Chicanos straddle the borderlands. On one side of us, we are constantly exposed
to the Spanish of the Mexicans, on the other side we hear the Anglos' incessant clamoring so
that we forget our language. Among ourselves we don't say nosotros los americanos, o
nosotros los españoles, o nosotros los hispanos. We say nosotros los mexicanos (by mexicanos
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we do not mean citizens of Mexico; we do not mean a national identity, but a racial one). We
distinguish between mexicanos del otro lado and mexicanos de este lado. Deep in our hearts
we believe that being Mexican has nothing to do with which country one lives in. Being Mexican
is a state of soul not one of mind, not one of citizenship. Neither eagle nor serpent, but both.
And like the ocean, neither animal respects borders.
Dime con quien andas y te diré quien eres.
(Tell me who your friends are and I'll tell you who you are.)
--Mexican saying
Si le preguntas a mi mamá, "¿Qué eres?" te dirá, "Soy mexicana." My brothers and sister say
the same. I sometimes will answer "soy mexicana" and at others will say "soy Chicana" or "soy
tejana." But I identified as "Raza" before I ever identified as "mexicana" or "Chicana."
As a culture, we call ourselves Spanish when referring to ourselves as a linguistic group and
when copping out. It is then that we forget our predominant Indian genes. We are 70-80
percent Indian. (4) We call ourselves Hispanic (5) or Spanish-American or Latin American or
Latin when linking ourselves to other Spanish speaking peoples of the Western hemisphere and
when copping out. We call ourselves Mexican-American (6) to signify we are neither Mexican
nor American, but more the noun "American" than the adjective "Mexican" (and when copping
out).
Chicanos and other people of color suffer economically for not acculturating. This voluntary (yet
forced) alienation makes for psychological conflict, a kind of dual identity--we don't identify
with the Anglo-American cultural values and we don't totally identify with the Mexican cultural
values. We are a synergy of two cultures with various degrees of Mexicanness or Angloness. I
have so internalized the borderland conflict that sometimes I feel like one cancels out the other
and we are zero, nothing, no one. A veces no soy nada ni nadie. Pero hasta cuando no lo soy, lo
soy.
Paul Celan (b. 1920 Cernauti, Romania –d. 1970 Paris) - Deathfugue
(translated from German)
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening
we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
he writes it and steps out of doors and the stars are all sparkling, he whistles his hounds to
come close
he whistles his Jews into rows has them shovel a grave in the ground
he commands us to play up for the dance.
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Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at morning and midday we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
A man lives in the house he plays with his vipers he writes
he writes when it grows dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
Your ashen hair Shulamith we shovel a grave in the air there you won't lie too cramped
He shouts jab the earth deeper you lot there you others sing up and play
he grabs for the rod in his belt he swings it his eyes are so blue
jab your spades deeper you lot there you others play on for the dancing
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday and morning we drink you at evening
we drink and we drink
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margareta
your aschenes Haar Shulamith he plays his vipers
He shouts play death more sweetly this Death is a master from Deutschland
he shouts scrape your strings darker you'll rise then as smoke to the sky
you'll have a grave then in the clouds there you won't lie too cramped
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at midday Death is a master aus Deutschland
we drink you at evening and morning we drink and we drink
this Death is ein Meister aus Deutschland his eye it is blue
he shoots you with shot made of lead shoots you level and true
a man lives in the house your goldenes Haar Margarete
he looses his hounds on us grants us a grave in the air
he plays with his vipers and daydreams der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland
dein goldenes Haar Margarete
dein aschenes Haar Shulamith
