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Hence this Cradle by Hélène Sanguinetti
originally published in French as D'ici, de ce berceau (Paris: Flammarion, 2003)
translated by Ann Cefola
reviewed by Liz Fortini

ISBN 978-0-9755924-7-2  US$12.95 159 pages
Otis Books/Seismicity Editions

Review
by Liz Fortini

Hence this Cradle, by Hélène Sanguinetti and translated by Ann Cefola, is a tapestry interwoven of images that portray a sense of loss the poet continually questions.  This loss is seen as:

    Christmas Night.

        Snow.  Much silence.  Not in
     My head, sounds of the sea,
     Immediately taking back what it gives.

     Cradle and tomb, tied up with foam,
     rolling on clover: only one face
     within.

     I did not follow – I definitely can't anymore –
     the revelers who suddenly wanted to go
     catch "a bit of Mass," before spiraling
     out of cafés.


     Some of Christ's snowy body, often denied or disowned
     or adored, promised to all!


     It's the mystery of this loss that's important to me
     the grave sweet face, bleeding body
     that man gave him, as many mouths
     as wounds for the kneeling, head
     against their hands, in the half-light of the
     chapel on the cold slabs worn by
     footsteps, …..

and

            "Here are my eyes
         Prisoner, they're for you"

     Toward evening those were the exact words
     Without file or orange whose voice is lost but
     The stairs echo big and small things
     Suddenly dropped from the attic window
     3 wishes reward the watcher,
     3 dreams promise him hard love.


as well as

     Last words:
     much more useless than the wake of the last
     migration in this morning's sky, I think.
     I was rage and still am rage.


     This return to sweetness cleansed by rage,
     Rose, my heiress, embrace it



     Afterwards lost behind.
     (Hills,Summer eve)


Each poem is refreshingly printed in differing fonts and sizes, making reading lively.  Sometimes italics dominate boldly, other times no.

Many poems are dedicated to someone named Rose, found above and below:

Rose,
Who still makes my heart race

     Seesaw in my throat, the night pushes its
     Own choking images, image of the north grating
     From fields sifted with hoarfrost,
     Your souls little claws, little apes full
     Of tears, suspended
     Suckling the neck

Many poems are continuations of images and there is not necessarily a division between one poem and the next.

There are powerful recurring themes in this.  A strong example is the usage of ‘eyes,' which I found in over seventeen poems, as well as usage of ‘seen.' Many examples abound:  ‘that she could see', ‘have you seen', ‘how does one see', ‘what can you see', ‘me hidden watching you' and more. The poet is continually questioning what is out there and why the status quo cannot stay the same.

     How the white mare's eyes told me
     leave leave!


     Do you get it what I say, “not enough
     love to stay?"  This is our country
     I am keeping, the fig tree, eyes behind
     the foliage, bed hidden deep in my eyes, who
     would I be in flight, a refugee, tearful, and…


and

                Rose,


     I write you here where it snows
     I don't have any more Bread.

     From waiting under the reeds, my eyes
     have gotten bigger I believe


     Also from being barbed by the night watchmen, and the
     moon played her role, She too in my eyes…..

and

     How your eyes.
     “I'm hungry, I've a sister," for you and for
     her, take what cannot be seen and that I
     cannot call by any name.

     So where is the beautiful face that was gauze
     on the peak. Bread and fanfare in the
     rucksack,
     blending gazelle cloud and sea!

     Everyone ran always ran,
     ah; gatherers of pebbles,
     small bleeding, and cold.  How your eyes.

Ann Cefola uses exact translation which I like.  This way there are no hidden meanings, or questioning if the poet actually expressed the images she wished too.  The book is translated in simplicity.



About the Author

Hélène Sanguinetti is the author of three books of poetry: Alparegho, Pareil-à-rien, D'ici, de ce berceau, and De la main gauche, exploratrice.  Her work has appeared in a several anthologies, most recently in 49 Poètes and L'Année poétique 2005. Recently she collaborated with Anna Baranek on an artist's book, Ô IIIHence This Cradle, Ann Cefola's translation of D'ici, de ce berceau, is Sanguinetti's first book to appear in English.

About the Translator
Ann Cefola's chapbook, Sugaring (Dancing Girl Press), April 2007.  She has won a 2007 Witter Bynner Poetry Translation Residency and the 2001 Robert Penn Warren Award judged by John Ashbery.  Ann (anncefola.com) also holds an MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College and works as a creative strategist (jumpstartnow.net). 

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