Daniela Camozzi
Daniela Camozzi is a poet, translator, and feminist activist. She was born in 1969 in Haedo, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Camozzi has six poetry collections published, and has translated works by Joseph Brodsky, Muriel Rukeyser, and Amy Lowell, among others. She is a founding member of Medusa, a group of feminist poets and translators devoted to translating into Spanish the work of female authors that have been forgotten or ignored by the literary canon. Camozzi is one of the original founders of No Tan Distintes, a transfeminist organization working for and with homeless women and LGBT+ people in the Buenos Aires area. She facilitates poetry workshops focusing on writing, editing, and publishing.
Introduction to the author,
and an English reading by Askold Melnyczuk:
Talking to my 25-year-old self
I thought of you staring
at the green glass piece
on my desk and a sparkle
of light brought you here.
You just came back
from Chile and your body’s
shape is already
giving you away:
no shield can endure
so many nights of lies.
The best part of that trip
was Isla Negra,
I utter and I want
to keep talking, but I am terrified
I may spook you out.
Why don’t you tell me
about that glass, turquoise
by the sea, and so red
when facing the land.
But you are fading out now,
a heartbeat, a flash of light,
and there is no time left
for another story.
I only manage to cry out:
Don’t lose yourself,
please don’t,
in other people’s desires.
— Translated by Daniela Camozzi
Daniela Camozzi reading Talking to my 25-year-old self
in the original Spanish:
La de hoy a la de hace veinticinco años
Te pensé en el cristal
verde de mi escritorio
y ese destello te hizo
venir hasta acá.
Recién volviste
de Chile y ya la línea
de tu cuerpo
te delata: no hay
armazón que soporte
tantas noches de farsa.
Del viaje, lo mejor
fue Isla Negra,
pronuncio y quiero
seguir, pero me aterra
que te espantes.
Mejor contame vos
de aquel vidrio turquesa
junto al mar y tan rojo
del lado de la tierra.
Pero te disolvés,
un latido, una luz,
y no queda tiempo
para otra historia.
Solo llego a gritar:
no te distraigas,
por favor, no,
en los deseos ajenos.
From the book of poems La posibilidad, published by Baltasara Editora in 2021.