Monumento a Alfonsina Storni
Mar del Plata, Argentina
 Alfonsina Storni
(1892 - 1938)
Alfonsina Storni was born in Sala Capriasca, Switzerland and moved to Argentina at the age of four.  She worked in a factory before becoming an actress, then a teacher, and finally an office worker and writer.  She published her first book of poetry, La inquietud del rosal, in 1916. She subsequently published El dulce daño (1918), Irremediablemente (1919), Languidez (1920), Ocre (1925), Mundo de siete pozos (1934), and Mascarilla y trébol (1938).

A single mother and an intelligent woman, Storni often felt held back by a society where intellectual pursuits were considered the realm of men.  She famously described herself as superior al término medio de los hombres que me rodean; "superior to most of the men who surround me".  In many of her poems and in articles she wrote during the 20s, she is highly critical of society's treatment of women.  She also struggled with a depression that often comes through in her poetry, and in 1938, having been diagnosed with cancer, she took her life in the seaside city of Mar del Plata by walking out into the ocean.

Below I have included some of her poems, with English translations.  These translations are mine unless otherwise indicated; please credit me if reproducing them. 

Poems: Versos a la tristeza de Buenos Aires, Tú me quieres blanca, Melancolía, Palabras a mi Madre,
Versos a la tristeza de Buenos Aires

Tristes calles derechas, agrisadas e iguales,
Por donde asoma, a veces, un pedazo de cielo,
Sus fachadas oscuras y el asfalto del suelo
Me apagaron los tibios sueños primaverales.
Cuánto vagué por ellas, distraída, empapada
En el vaho grisáceo, lento, que las decora.
De su monotonía mi alma padece ahora.
-¡Alfonsina! -No llames. Ya no respondo a nada.
Si en una de tus casas, Buenos Aires, me muero
Viendo en días de otoño tu cielo prisionero
No me será sorpresa la lápida pesada
Que entre tus calles rectas, untadas de su río
Apagado, brumoso, desolante y sombrío,
Cuando vagué por ellas, ya estaba yo enterrada
The Sadness of Buenos Aires

Sad straight streets, covered equally in greys
Where there appears sometimes a bit of sky
The asphalt below and façades dark and high
Blotted out the dreams of my tender spring days
How I wandered distracted, and did despond
In the slow greyish mist I could not flee
My soul now suffers that monotony
Alfonsina! Don't call me, I won't respond
If in one of your houses, Buenos Aires, I die
In autumn, watching your prison sky,
The heavy tombstone will be no surprise.
For in your straight streets, water-stained
By their river, desolate, lifeless, pained,
I was already buried within their guise
Tú me quieres blanca

Tú me quieres alba,
Me quieres de espumas,
Me quieres de nácar.
Que sea azucena
Sobre todas, casta.
De perfume tenue.
Corola cerrada
Ni un rayo de luna
Filtrado me haya.
Ni una margarita
Se diga mi hermana.
Tú me quieres nívea,
Tú me quieres blanca,
Tú me quieres alba.

Tú que hubiste todas
Las copas a mano,
De frutos y mieles
Los labios morados.
Tú que en el banquete
Cubierto de pámpanos
Dejaste las carnes
Festejando a Baco.
Tú que en los jardines
Negros del Engaño
Vestido de rojo
Corriste al Estrago.
Tú que el esqueleto
Conservas intacto
No sé todavía
Por cuáles milagros,
Me pretendes blanca
(Dios te lo perdone),
Me pretendes casta
(Dios te lo perdone),
¡Me pretendes alba!

Huye hacia los bosques,
Vete a la montaña;
Límpiate la boca;
Vive en las cabañas;
Toca con las manos
La tierra mojada;
Alimenta el cuerpo
Con raíz amarga;
Bebe de las rocas;
Duerme sobre escarcha;
Renueva tejidos
Con salitre y agua;
Habla con los pájaros
Y lévate al alba.
Y cuando las carnes
Te sean tornadas,
Y cuando hayas puesto
En ellas el alma
Que por las alcobas
Se quedó enredada,
Entonces, buen hombre,
Preténdeme blanca,
Preténdeme nívea,
Preténdeme casta.
 You want me white

You want me to be the dawn
You want me made of seaspray
Made of mother-of-pearl
That I be a lily
Chaste above all others
Of tenuous perfume
A blossom closed

That not even a moonbeam
Might have touched me
Nor a daisy
Call herself my sister
You want me like snow
You want me white
You want me to be the dawn

You who had all
The cups before you
Of fruit and honey
Lips dyed purple
You who in the banquet
Covered in grapevines
Let go of your flesh
Celebrating Bacchus
You who in the dark
Gardens of Deceit
Dressed in red
Ran towards Destruction

You who maintain
Your bones intact
Only by some miracle
Of which I know not
You ask that I be white
(May God forgive you)
You ask that I be chaste
(May God forgive you)
You ask that I be the dawn!

Flee towards the forest
Go to the mountains
Clean your mouth
Live in a hut
Touch with your hands
The damp earth
Feed yourself
With bitter roots
Drink from the rocks
Sleep on the frost
Clean your clothes
With saltpeter and water
Talk with the birds
And set sail at dawn
And when your flesh
Has returned to you
And when you have put
Into it the soul
That through the bedrooms
Became entangled
Then, good man,
Ask that I be white
Ask that I be like snow
Ask that I be chaste
Melancolía

Oh muerte, yo te amo, pero te adoro, vida...
Cuando vaya en mi caja para siempre dormida,
Haz que por vez postrera
Penetre mis pupilas el sol de primavera.

Déjame algún momento bajo el calor del cielo,
Deja que el sol fecundo se estremezca en mi hielo...
Era tan bueno el astro que en la aurora salía
A decirme: buen día.

No me asusta el descanso, hace bien el reposo,
Pero antes que me bese el viajero piadoso
Que todas las mañanas,
Alegre como un niño, llegaba a mis ventanas.		 Melancholy

Oh death, I love you, but life I adore
When in a box I go to sleep forevermore
Send the light of Spring's sunrise
One last time to reach my eyes

Leave me for a moment under the warmth of the sky,
Let the fertile sun tremble over my ice
The morning star that came my way
Did well to tell me: good day.

I am not afraid to rest, to repose is good,
But only if that gracious traveler would
Kiss me as every morning mild
He came to my window, happy as a child.
Palabras a mi Madre

No las grandes verdades yo te pregunto, que
No las contestarías; solamente investigo
Si, cuando me gestaste, fue la luna testigo,
Por los oscuros patios en flor, paseándose.

Y si, cuando en tu seno de fervores latinos
Yo escuchando dormía, un ronco mar sonoro
Te adormeció las noches, y miraste, en el oro
Del crepúsculo, hundirse los pájaros marinos.

Porque mi alma es toda fantástica, viajera,
Y la envuelve una nube de locura ligera
Cuando la luna nueva sube al cielo azulino.

Y gusta, si el mar abre sus fuertes pebeteros.
Arrullada en un claro cantar de marineros
Mirar las grandes aves que pasan sin destino.

Words to my Mother

I don't ask for great truths, because I see
You wouldn't answer, I only want to know
If, as it passed over the dark patios below,
The moon was witness to your carrying me.
 
And if when, at your breast of latin emotion
I slept and listened, a hoarse and sonorous sea
Lulled you to sleep, and you watched to see
The birds dive into the gold twilight ocean.

For my soul travels far and is full of flight;
When the new moon rises to the deep blue night,
It is enveloped in a light and lunatic cloud.

And when they are opened, the censers of the sea
It likes to watch the birds pass without destiny
Lulled by a sailor's song, clear and loud.



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