Poetry

Poems in Tutunakú and Spanish by Cruz Alejandra Lucas Juárez

April 3, 2025 Poetry, Translation

By CRUZ ALEJANDRA LUCAS JUÁREZ
Translated by WENDY CALL & WHITNEY DEVOS

Poems appear below in English, and Spanish and Tutunakú, the original languages.

Translators’ Note

Poet Cruz Alejandra Lucas Juárez creates her work bilingually, in Spanish—the language in which she was educated—and in Tutunakú—the language in which she was raised. Tutunakú is the home language of approximately 220,000 people in the Mexican states of Puebla and Veracruz. It has multiple variants and Lucas Juárez seeks out speakers from different communities to expand her poetic vocabulary.

She generally begins writing in Tutunakú, but lines also come to her in Spanish, so she moves back and forth between the two versions of each poem, creating the bilingual pair simultaneously. “It’s two creation processes happening at the same time,” she says. Tutunakú is agglutinative, so it contains words up to a dozen syllables long that translate as whole phrases or sentences in Spanish. Her translation process must be “letter by letter, not word by word, because each word contains so much,” she explains. Tutunakú is also a highly metaphorical language: “being pregnant” translates to “I am not alone,” while “I miss you” translates literally as “My stomach is sinking.”

Although poetry is a regular part of Tutunakú cultural life, Lucas Juárez is the first woman to publish a book of poetry in the language. These poems are drawn from her 2021 debut collection, Xlaktsuman papa’ / Las hijas del Luno. The title, “Daughters of Luno,” uses the masculine version of the Spanish word for moon (luna). Luno is the metaphorical father of Tutunakú women.

We began co-translating “Daughters of Luno” in 2023, inspired by the depth of Lucas Juárez’ poetic voice, written when Lucas Juárez was in her early twenties. To create our English translations, we worked primarily from the Spanish, observing and listening to the Tutunakú versions, though neither of us has formally studied the language. We met with the poet in person and via video call, and also exchanged many messages. We are grateful for her patience, generosity, and linguistic expertise, all of which have been crucial to our process.

— Wendy Call & Whitney Devos

Table of Contents

Litutunaaku
Tantsulut Bird
The Voice of The Buried

“Litutunaaku” is the Tututnakú people’s name for themselves. The word translates as “people who belong to the culture of the three hearts,” referencing the brain (memory), the antomical heart (physical life), and the stomach (emotional experience). Together, these three interdependent “hearts” sustain Tutunakú “triple consciousness.” “Li,” the word’s first syllable, refers to a Tutunakú person’s homeplace—which is central to identity.

March 2025 Poetry Feature: Catherine-Esther Cowie’s Heirloom

March 27, 2025 Poetry

Poems by CATHERINE-ESTHER COWIE

Having made both poetry and fiction contributions to TC, the multitalented Catherine-Esther Cowie returns to us this month with highlights from her debut poetry collection Heirloom, forthcoming from Carcanet Press on April 24, 2025.

Publisher’s Note

Moving from colonial to post-colonial St. Lucia, this debut collection brings to light the inheritances of four generations of women, developing monologues, lyrics, and narrative poems which enable us to see how past dysfunction, tyranny, and terror structure the shapes of women’s lives, and what they hand down to one another.

Uneasy inheritances are just the starting point for this debut’s remarkable meditations: Should the stories of the past be told? Do they bring redemption or ruin? What are the costs of saying what happened? Beguiling and cathartic, Catherine-Esther Cowie’s powerful, formally inventive poems reckon with the past even as they elegize and celebrate her subjects.

February 2025 Poetry Feature: New Poems by Our Contributors

February 27, 2025 Poetry

New work from ELIZABETH METZGER, MATT W. MILLER, ANNIE SCHUMACHER, and MARC VINCENZ.

Table of Contents:

Elizabeth Metzger, “Never Finished”
Matt W. Miller, “Cleveland”
Annie Schumacher, “Pasiphaë”
Marc Vincenz, “A Tribute to Whom”

$Excerpt from The Math of Saint Felix$

Excerpt from The Math of Saint Felix

February 25, 2025 Poetry

$book cover of The Math of Saint Felix by Diane Exavier, red with white text$

By DIANE EXAVIER

This piece is excerpted from The Math of Saint Felix, a poetry collection by Diane Exavier ’09. Exavier will be a guest at Amherst College’s LitFest 2025, an exciting, 10^th-anniversary celebration of Amherst’s literary legacy and life. Register here.

algebra

flower vase with multicolored flowers in front of a green wall

I am the counting

ledger and I pray

broken parts reunite,

bones reset,

remnants transpose.

Excerpt from Lamentations of Nezahualcóyotl: Nahuatl Poems

February 24, 2025 Poetry, Translation

By NEZAHUALCÓYOTL

Retold by ILAN STAVANS

Nezahualcóyotl (1402–1472) is the only pre-Hispanic Aztec poet we know by name. The word means “Hungry Coyote” in Nahuatl. But Nezahualcóyotl wasn’t solely a poet. He ruled the Texcocans, who, along with the city-states Tenochtitlán and Tlacopán, formed the magisterial Triple Alliance, which ruled from 1428 until the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors almost a hundred years later. Nezahualcóyotl was also known for his philosophical meditations, his urban projects, especially aqueducts, and for his views on war, sacrifice, and the legal system.

Excerpt from Tripas

February 17, 2025 Poetry

By BRANDON SOM

This piece is excerpted from Brandon Som’s Tripas, which won the 2024 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. Som will be a guest at Amherst College’s LitFest 2025, an exciting, 10^th-anniversary celebration of Amherst’s literary legacy and life. Register here.

ANTENNA

Tuning not lute but car radio, Cocteau’s Orpheus copies the
broadcasts from a netherworld for verses—

Four Poems by JinJin Xu

February 14, 2025 Poetry

By JINJIN XU

These poems are excerpted from the published work of JinJin Xu ’17, a guest at Amherst College’s LitFest 2025. Register for this exciting, 10^th-anniversary celebration of Amherst’s literary legacy and life.

Table of Contents

“There They Are”
“To Your Brother, Who Is Without Name”
“The Revolution is Not a Dinner Party”
“Against This Earth, We Knock”

LitFest 2025 Excerpts: Video Poems by Paisley Rekdal

February 12, 2025 Audio, Poetry

Amherst College’s tenth annual literary festival runs from Thursday, February 27 to Sunday, March 2. Among the guests is PAISLEY REKDAL, whose book West: A Translation was longlisted for the National Book Award. The Common is pleased to reprint a short selection of video poems from West here.

Join Paisley Rekdal and Brandom Som in conversation with host Ruth Dickey, Executive Director of the National Book Foundation, on Sunday, March 2 at 2pm.

Register and see the full list of LitFest events here.

Not

Mantra 5

February 6, 2025 Poetry, Translation

By KRIKOR BELEDIAN
Translated by CHRISTOPHER MILLIS and TALINE VOSKERITCHIAN

Piece appears below in English and the original Armenian.

Translators’ Note

The pervasive sense of place in Krikor Beledian’s works was forged in the crucible of displacement. Beledian grew up in the Beirut neighborhood of Hayashen, which was home to the waves of refugees from the Armenian genocide that Armenians refer to as the Catastrophe.

The pre-eminent writer of Western Armenian literature, Beledian is a long-time resident of Paris, where he has authored more than 30 volumes, including poetry, a 10-volume novel cycle still in progress, literary criticism, experimental prose, and literary history. And he has done so in the UNESCO-designated “endangered” language of Western Armenian.

“Mantra 5” is one of the 32 extended poems collected in Mantras. Beledian says that Mantra 5 was written from the tip of the Seine isle of Vert Gallant, which looks toward the Louvre and the metallic bridge of Pont des Arts. From this vantage point, the poem brings into its sphere multiple and often contradictory threads which are simultaneously at play, resulting in a fractured surface. Time and geography are superimposed on each other; just as the ruins of Palmyra appear in the Louvre, the shadowy dead of indeterminate origin course through the currents of the Seine and the Euphrates. The poem is both atonal dirge and palimpsest.

In the Preface to Mantras, Beledian writes that “place is exile, and exile is the original catastrophe.” The challenge of translating Beledian’s writing is its radical tenuousness—of place, time, and language itself. This is a complex undertaking because Western Armenian belongs to a culture nearly obliterated in 1915, a Catastrophe bookended by centuries of displacement. English, particularly American English, belongs to the culture of conquest and certainty: How to render into English a poetic language which is acutely aware of its calamitous biography, its indeterminate attributes, and its mandate to give voice to the unspoken, unseen, unknown?

— Christopher Millis and Taline Voskeritchian