Mark Silber was born on August 4, 1934 in Buenos Aires, the city where he resides, Argentina. Since 1958 has published the poems "triune Volcano" , "The borders of light" , "Freedom" (scenic poem), "Summary of Fear" , "Dopoguerra" , "She" (Gaza Honor Society Writers Argentina), "Sum poetic" , "Tales of the West" , "First Person" , "Word of mouth: Notebook risen " , "Thrillers (Stories in" 16 ")" (finalist in contest Casa de las Americas , Cuba), "continuo" , "News about the fire in the nave" , "Doloratas" (with Carlos Levy), "Cone shade house of bread" , "Prepositions and manners " (first prize in Merida , Spain), "Live rock" (First Prize Poetry Competition "The Moon That"), "Head, trunk and limbs" . In 2010, the Editorial Monte Avila, of Venezuela, published "Called" , an anthology of his poetry. The volume "guided tour" is another selection of his writings from 1968-2012 plus some unpublished, made by him and with a foreword by Ivonne Bordelois (Ediciones From the People, Mobilizing Funds Institute of Cooperative, 2013).
In addition to being included in numerous anthologies of his country and France, Venezuela, Colombia, Peru and Cuba, collaborated in countless newspaper and magazine paper, and samples of his poetry is findable on the Internet. It is one of the founders of the Society of the Living Poets (built by Charles Carbone, Eugenio Mandrini, Santiago Espel, Hugo Toscadaray, Carlos Levy ...). He participated in the Reading Program Cycle "Poets of \\\\\\\'60", developed in 2004 in notable bars , invited by the Ministry of Education, Government of their city. Municipal won First Prize in the poetry genre, for the biennium 1998-1999.
1 - "I was born in a neighborhood where luxury was a gamble ..." (first verse of wonderful tango "El corazón al sur" of our fellow Eladia, she was referring to a poor neighborhood in the city of Avellaneda, across the Stream, bordering the Federal Capital, and there we yielded an outline of his childhood, his family background, his nostalgia, his future). Transfer to you, Mark, even in prose and vuelapluma concern: "I was born ..."
MS - I was born at Mercado de Abasto stuck: the universe that defines the time: something like the hotel immigrant labor. Representative polyphony social boil -1930-1940 -; childhood or games (which is the same) was developed in a battlefield, then the world stage. We played war, life and death. Mom, the messenger of the European fire with increasingly spaced letters, until it ceased. By then, the visual memory goes back to the kitchen table, she and I; silence, where the ceremony night reading it for both recur. So I feel sometimes that I write for her to read for me. I fed with food of higher heating value: Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Chekhov, Gorky ... I hear his voice still, just waterfall, his hoarseness sweet. It is uncertain why window entered the enthusiasm, working with word, his need. Yes I should note these meetings as births, starting points, source of emotions, a must cruise destination. Fatal, forced Marea, installed and goes with me, lives with me and my entire identity. If one does not assume that reality, do not answer, sleeplessness suffer a fatal punishment for "breach of duty of creator." My head did not fail to attract and forge imagery, inventions, fantasies that got me was rewarded with the title of liar. Ignorance and confusion then. My self and my task overload assumed creative drive. I painted and not prospered; I played the violin either. Every attempt was collapsing before the anxiety of the conquest of "absolute", big and definitive. And companies were interfered with by the irrepressible surge of wakefulness and imperious proclivity to sing this and express it. Maternal provision of literature coexisted with hard limiting illiterate dad. "poetic Sum" opens with the following: "NOTICE - Dad was illiterate and struggling throughout his life suffered that infamous condition. Perhaps there, came that veneration, reverential worship that as the printed word. Once I discovered the missing of some copies of a title that I had just published. My indictment, Mom, no oath without reservation, told me: \\\\\\\'It\\\\\\\'s your dad who leads the market (where I worked), there he distributed\\\\\\\'. Eventually, one of my most cherished aspirations, suggests that each of the words written by me, go to the desert area of each of the words not written by him. That, perhaps constitutes the most intense place of the meeting, the satisfied desire, consolation and repair; finally the victory of the word both on the ice of silence. "They were going varied works in the context of rough pass. Always troubled by the infallible Business "Escribidora" drive. Mandate, as hungry beast that never left the center of the ring. On the reverse of the labor paperwork urgent Commons, spontaneous one word summary of a burst or emotional evocation noted. Persisted imprint to build a "grand symphony", the sound, the voice, the tone of each word, and rhythm, the music started, the harassing cadence (to taste). On paper-writing with writer-claim but the dictation comes from the inside of the composer. The poetry-loving immortal act as owner, with rigorous sovereign presence. On my twenties contact with militant journalism allows participating with notes and interviews. It emphasizes photo-by-la on Nicolas Guillen. It was Raúl González Tuñón who led me to the "last of the romantics editors" as he called Don Manuel Gleizer. The latest title in its stamp was my first book. (Soil repeat Julio Rutman, journalist in the province of Mendoza, and grandson of Gleizer, died the editor for publishing my work ...) At that time corresponds Drill and Vladimir Mayakovsky reading generating Sergey Esenin, Miguel Hernández, César Vallejo, Chilean Vicente Huidobro and Pablo Neruda, Juan L. Ortiz, TS Eliot, Whitman, Fernando Pessoa, Eluard, Aragon, Ungaretti, Quasimodo, Eugenio Montale, Americans. The alluvial these vertigo accompanied my youth. Admission to medical school with the dream of a job of enthusiastic sense of solidarity and a mandate to "my son the doctor". All available and proposed central poetic work. At street feeling coexist anecdote, domestic script, expectant look on the world. With prime location land order my fascination with cinema, installed and incorporates me with unusual intensity and will present in my work. The parish neighborhood screen won me with force of faith. The "biographer" neighborhood with "Convoy" ...
2 - seize the camera, encendámosla, and improvises some approaches without chronological or exhaustive effort a "panoramic" on your books and some notes of context.
MS - "The Convoy" I refer to "Tales of the West" ; amorous passion, without any daring raid: "Dopoguerra" . A historical event causes the scenic poem "Freedom" , represented several times and dedicated to Don David Alvaro Siqueiros (who I treasure a letter from his prison). With special papers folder "Pigeons", illustrated by Mabel Rubli and bibliophile limited number appears. It appears as "shadow cone and gingerbread house" when I join the Keg Group, with poets Carlos Patiño (1934-2013), Alberto Costa, Horacio Salas, Martin Campos, Rafael Alberto Vasquez, Roberto Santoro (1939, director magazine "keg" and detained-disappeared in 1977 for the late civil-military dictatorship), Miguel Angel Rozzisi, and close the Group, as Humberto Costantini. That was a strong political and cultural commitment. Of the collection consists of seven reprints whose title was "Reports" emerged. Through stamp appears Editions The Keg "Summary of fear" . "Doloratas" is a kind of oratory that commemorates the Holocaust. "News about the fire in the nave" comes from the tales of pirates told my grandson. "continuo" distributed accompanying, in a plastic envelope, an edition of the poetry magazine "The Guacha" so it came to about 2500 readers. "Head, trunk and extremities" voucher as payment of pending settled with the doctor-I-who defected.
3-I\\\\\\\'m pretty sure I have read your scenic poem "Liberty" ... What is the historical fact that led to his conception? Who or whom they represented? I guess if you\\\\\\\'ve spent Siqueiros, gravitate figure in the work of the great muralist. What does it say in the letter that he sent you?
MS - The letter is gratitude. "Freedom" was generated as a result of stopping it, it seems that a guy had liquidated the shots. It was edited by "The Keg" and represented actors Adriana Aizemberg, Hugo Alvarez and Jorge Amosa in the spring of 1963.
4-Me love you to tell us about an experience that I know from the excellent edition CD: texts "Thrillers" with your reading and counterpoint with sax Sergio Paolucci, is represented in about fifty times and not only in our city . In what areas are represented, in what locations, a story?
MS - That\\\\\\\'s right: in addition to functions, most in our city and Greater Buenos Aires, we gave in the provinces of Mendoza, Córdoba and Tucumán. I remember an episode that happened when offered the show in the main hall of the National Library: Paolucci usually intoned for a bit before each performance. This time it was time to start and did not appear when I was just about to public suicide. From the most exhilarating point topped it center stage lying on the floor, from where they embarked with his. Viewers, surprised, have thought acting. When it became standing ovation.
5-I am aware that I attended as invited international poetry encounters in some countries. What has characterized each of them? Do we precisarías which have been, which years, if you found a marked difference with those made in these plains ...? If you happen to work in one organization, what would you propose? What "missing" to festivals?
MS - I believe that organizational motivations are similar: real cultural diffusion and an honest desire to protagonicidad minority and the rest interest (the human condition, did you see?). The festival of greater weight and level at which I participated was to Medellin in June 1993. Then I attended to Bogota twice. House work Poetry Silva, founded by Belisario Betancur (excellent poet himself and former President of Colombia). The house was run by the poet María Mercedes Carranza, who in 2003 came to take his own life in the same room where Jose Asuncion Silva had. She and I were at the International Poetry Festival of Lima. Shocking was the World Poetry Festival in Caracas, on the "Carreño" Theater (Teatro equivalent to our "Columbus"): individual reading on a huge stage. In addition, readings in various states of Venezuela: touching. I met Derek Walcott Nobel Caribbean, whom I brought you a text signature. The meetings are conceived in our pampas basically carry similar strengths and weaknesses. What I would propose: organizers refrain included in the schedule. I do not consider ethical to do so. Festivals lack dynamism, critical sense (eye and ear of the viewer / listener). Should not manage to mortify or bored. Imbibing image of how he plays and acting and operate accordingly.
6 - Atmosphere of tributes and recognitions explicit or implicit, and not just for your career six decades is what we notice around you, from a long time ago, those who are attentive.
MS - Tributes and awards notices suspicious of those who say the stretch and that are, at least, disturbing. With Joaquín Giannuzzi jodíamos: "We are on the waiting list." I try to locate myself in existential terms and am aware of it: prolonging the journey with poetic work as resistance, as vital affirmative expression.
7 - Always wanted to ask you about that speech of yours-I think one-on sixties, as co-adapter to Castilian ours, the locals, along with George Hacker, "Roots", the play of English prolific (now Sir) Arnold Wesker, who begins the trilogy that continues with "Chicken Soup" and "The Kitchen". I was a spectator of the three (attending all the shows the group "New Theatre" Peter Asquini and Alejandra Boero).
MS - The first translation of that piece was in Argentina through Ediciones Nueva Vision in 1966 In 1971 he came out with the seal of the Latin American Center Editor.. It was performed, under the direction of George Hacker and performances of Norma Aleandro, Héctor Alterio, Rubens Correa, Alejandra Boero ... Three year poster. That was start dancing with the cutest "not appropriate" because what follows is below ...
8 - A number of people, and probably not to you-I have referred them how much they stuck me our first meeting (it was in the "Opera", on the corner of Callao and Corrientes avenues bar). It must have been around 1990, days after I receive yours, handwritten letter, in which I trasmitías your impressions after reading my first book (me to be around my 45 years), and even your associations with certain bias of one of your books. It was my first real conversation-almost-swear one of the poets I just kept since my teens. All this prologuito I install to inquire about your first personal encounters with writers you are more have recorded.
MS - De emotional impact: Olga Orozco (also she was invited to Colombia, but declined to attend on behalf of something or spell waiting to attack her, in vain I had been entrusted, I tried to dissuade her). With great pleasure I chatted with Juan L. Ortiz, Raúl González Tuñón, Marco Denevi, Nicolas Olivari (a Cabarute the neighborhood of La Boca), Leopoldo Marechal (whom I visited with Roberto Santoro). By phone I told you I twink boyfriend walked me as presumptuous, do not - with Lila Guerrero, the remarkable Spanish translator Vladimir Mayakovsky: she introduced me to the social world of literature. With Bernardo Ezequiel Koremblit, died in 2010, I had a special friendship and deep affection. Gifted and few and witty as any: started with the presentation of one of my poems declaring: I this book I read to avoid influence my opinion ... Do others: Sabato had left at home a copy of the still unpublished "Report on blind "and I got lost between both paperwork. A Neruda where I met Margarita Aguirre, his secretary lived. And in Santa Fe, during that memorable film, "The inundated," chatted with Juan José Saer.
9 - One night in April 2007, in the beautiful department of the recently deceased poet Graciela Wencelblat, were eating, drinking and chacoteando, the hostess, we writers Alfredo Palacio, Alicia Grinbank, Venezuelan Luis Gilberto Caraballo, Beatriz Shaefer Peña, Roberto Glorious, the Spanish Antonio Quiroga, Emilce Strucchi and your son Ramiro; I, after humming a stretch of milonga "I am dark Graciela"-letter Ulises Petit de Murat and music of Astor Piazzola-I asked you if you had come to treat Petit de Murat. Vos made a joke, like "what do you think, I\\\\\\\'m old enough to have met Esteban Echeverría or Florencio Sánchez and Miguel Cane?", And I was not even knowing if you had met him. Well, then: I am with the question. And also remember that some young poets of your generation I went to visit Antonio Porchia, in a time of great dissemination of his aphorisms, I wonder if you visited and which memory preserves.
MS - De Ulises Petit de Murat told me I do not mind that little intimacies of his friend Jorge Luis Borges. (. Estela Canto, who visited my house stands-never told me anything about his relationship with Borges) A Porchia not got to know him: he had sent one of my first poems and I responded with original manuscripts of his writings, which I spent-and also cherish. Whether handwritten letters Alexandre Vicente and Carlos Fuentes.
10 - You were one of those responsible for the collection of poetry Elephant Bazaar, which through editions of The Society of the Living Poets promoted competitions-Competition National Poetry "Ramón square" - and issues not only of the winners of these contests. What were the goals of this group?
MS - The Society of the Living Poets arises, of course, after seeing Peter Weir\\\\\\\'s film with Robin Williams, "The Dead Poets Society" decadent and discouraging. With a political-cultural practice, the group faced the printing and distribution of thousands of small leaflets with short and occasional poems. The contest tribute to the poet Ramón Square was a success: mass participation and creative level.
11 - Any event that you consider that has influenced a lot in your immersion in the literary life?
MS - One of the two who has been instrumental in my literary life, which is my only choice and life-is this: On the 80 I already spent several years as a sales representative, or as we called: corridor - in the textile industry, with privilege area. I earned enough money to become owner of several houses and other property. In \\\\\\\'84, at the output of a bank, I was mugged. It was very bloody. I ended up hospitalized with serious head injuries. Tomography ("unfortunately lucky" asserts the vulgar) detected a pituitary tumor with poor prognosis. I was operated for eight hours and fifteen days postoperatively sued in intensive care. The company I retired for disability and the tremendous depression that came over me. Aspiring to circumvent sicologistas interpretations used without attribute to "magic hand" or fatalism, I still believe that events tended to place me on the centrality of my creative passion, especially poetry. Thanks (it\\\\\\\'s irony) to the depression I was losing the property. To the point just to keep my small apartment, and no other issue more than meet outside the poetic work. And perceive me upset, to the extent that prevails satisfaction, having succeeded in reconciling being and work. I live within the poetic laburo, present and worthy. Out of it: orphaned in the desert.
Mark Silber selected for this interview, in July 2014, five poems of his own:
A hair appeared in the lavatory;
sufficient to disrupt the pristine landscape,
enough to break their caste whiteness.
Scroll issues knowing what afflicted him,
what sorrow him down.
decided why jump, will be known.
moribund There appears now expired, delivered.
exhibit but not more than necessary
and your skinny body. Someone will water
and the unfortunate roll and enter
in darkness and depths of no return.
was also life.
(From "First Person")
The redhead stands in the middle of the track
on the throne as the center of the world.
whisper men and she knows
why her tits progresses,
the figurehead on the bow.
pelito short blonde smiles,
men whisper and she know,
why all the time smiling
with happiness silly drawing.
plant The brunette at the scene
of his head that disturbs nocturnal sea,
and she knows it.
the way of black silk of her hair
after putting in the sky the cry:
"He who is not naked in the rain
does not play,
which does not climb into the kitchen of passion
does not play.
Come on boys, come on
until victory always "...!
(Unpublished included in "guided tour")
Rain is God.
Centre hand of pity
and anger the other.
If rain is removed
leaving the land earth
shut up the sea
and all the pallor appointment
to drop you to the dreamy window.
Rain is God.
If rain refuses
aground paper boats,
no heart is drawn on the windows
and go without blessing
the hair of women of the house.
If rain is removed
how much pain the world is washed
and meat silly
thrown on patio slabs
If rain falls, if it does not,
watch lovers are lost
below the zinc deceased.
God is raining.
If rain is removed
what will become of the faceless
who comes every Once water
and does not know who sings for me.
(Unpublished included in "Called")
(A sacred his crotch)
lives there, there, in the center
of the triumphal arch of her hips,
. velvets at the foot of pubic horizon
I called. I call. We call.
Speaks the evergreen or what is the same
lets hear their riffles.
ship With my sight
is aluviona, drowns,
and my hand responds with its hot springs.
Neither think when the divine call of timbre;
then waves occur an unstoppable tide.
plays. Game. We played.
Shots that hit the spot
waving the chime of the sky.
calls me. I call. We call ourselves.
bites Necklace visit
and each little death devours me.
Lavas born in the center of the earth
climb up the boiler
of both mouth of the two.
the mojadita will say and says
there is peace, a brief truce.
I, the lover will say and say
we are alive and this happens we is happiness.
Ella, beloved, will say and says
it gave me a little cold,
please cover me.
(Unpublished included in "Called")
Stampede, flash; they both hit the target.
For everything to run, retires.
Opened windows the sky. And the rainbow appeared.
There in the night. In the night sky.
(Okay, in case of sleep).
Dizziness, lightheadedness then, disorder, earthquake.
Nothing stops shaking.
every thing is frightened, runs away, is saved.
Unmoved Arch. The night.
At the night sky.
ghostly He continues with light and lights
on one dances there
(I have five)
and another, Jeanette McDonald singing there
(and you do not know ...)
What happened? Why route came the spell?
He was hand to reason?
(took over, sure)
hoarse, the jukebox lights the time.
not mind asking, at night,
in the night sky , what happened?
sense are rebelled?
Anyway, who cares.
leave it at that.
Stampede there and flash.
During the night. In the night sky.
With Rainbow and light and lights
on one dances there
(I have five)
and another, Jeanette McDonald singing there
(and you do not know ...)
In the city of Buenos Aires, and RR Silber Marcos in July 2014.
* Rolando Revagliatti, poet of the world: