Write a poem in the right margin of the one you brought—a poem that borders it.
- Working line by line or sentence by sentence, choose an element of sound or sense to carry across in your own lines.
- Alternately, experiment with a few different ways of directly dialoguing with the poem.
Strategies for Contact and Overlap
- Condition one line by rephrasing it as an “if” statement. Include both the “if”/”then” as your line, making a hinge between one fact (in the original poem) and another (in yours)
- Talk back to the line: contradict it, affirm it, or answer its (implicit or explicit) question or demand.
- Negate. Make a “no” a “yes” and vice versa. Flip an intention, reverse a certainty.
- Repeat the line as is, or with a slight change that alters meaning.
- Annotate. Invite a line of your interpretive/readerly margin-scribble in.
- Translate the line into a different idiom or, even, a different language.
Poetics of Translation Series 
[Öykü Tekten’s “mountain language”]
the day after the mulberry tree fell on its belly, the army bombed a truck
full of black umbrellas sent from russia against the tyranny of rain. they
said, the black umbrellas are no longer allowed in the mountains. hats
are. guns are. gods are. the trees are offensive to the sky. then
they called our language mountain, then they pronounced it dead.
we are in a dream, you said. undo the pain before you speak
against the gods with mouths full of rain. a tongue cut in half
becomes sharper, you said. date your wound.
[resulting border poem]
if the day after the mulberry tree fell on its belly [and, (in)advertently], the army bombed a truck
full[, as if spilling ink,] of black umbrellas sent from russia against the tyranny of [pure, unadulterated] rain[, then] they
said, the black umbrellas are [now necessary] in the mountains. hats
are [not allowed]. guns are. [and] gods are. the trees are offensive to the sky[, even lying on their bellies]. then
they called our language mountain, [if] they pronounced it dead.
we are [not] in a dream, you said. [gather] the pain before you speak
[for] the gods with mouths full of rain. a tongue cut in half
becomes [dull]er, you said. [lick] your wound.
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I loved this exercise! Thank you again for running these. I worked with the poem you shared, Fabián´s.
Original:
We are from the border
like the sun that is born here
behind the eucalyptus
shines all day
above the river
and goes to sleep there
beyond the Rodrígues´ house.
Belligerent, now all too familiar talk back:
You can´t be from the border
because I am from there
and consider it nucleus.
A center that stretches
to wrap over worn edges.
A center that grows
to swallow the sun.
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