In September 1976, the Mexican poet, Gloria Gervitz, penned a few lines that came to her mind repeatedly:
in the migrations of red carnations where songs burst from long-beaked birds
and apples rot before the disaster
where women fondle their breasts and touch their sex
in the sweat of rice powder and teatime
vines of passionflowers course through that which stays the same
Decades later, in a discussion with Mark Schafer, the translator of Migrations, she recalled that writing these lines felt like turning on a faucet. They closely align with the themes that Gervitz would explore in the poem she continued to work on for almost fifty years. The poem, with its central motif of “migration,” delves into the cycle of flowers blooming and withering, memories, death, feminine self-pleasure, and the imagery of passionflower vines symbolizing both repetition and change.
Gervitz, a poet and translator from Mexico City who later settled in San Diego, California until her passing in April of this year, is known for her singular work, Migrations. This remarkable book, her only published work, has seen numerous Spanish editions since 1976 and three English editions, all translated by Schafer. Few poetic endeavors compare to Gervitz’s lifelong dedication to refining and reshaping this single volume, meticulously crafting and evolving it over time.
Unlike its previous versions, the current edition of the poem lacks titles, prologues, and capital letters, presenting the text as a continuous flow across its two hundred and sixty pages. Without distinct sections, the passages merge effortlessly, imbuing the work with a fluid and multifaceted essence.
Within the poem, there is a vivid depiction of a spring morning where a young girl awakens and explores her body intimately:
[ … ] the feeling spreads
takes me completely
covers me completely
and I am this body
this rapture this vastness
I’m in the pleasure within the pleasure of pleasuring myself
The narrative expands from personal desires to encompass a broader landscape, intertwining elements of daily life, cultural references, and a nostalgic portrayal of Mexico. Gervitz weaves a tapestry of sensations, flavors, and memories, painting a vibrant picture of a bygone era.
The fragment evokes poignant reflections on the passage of time and the fluid nature of identity, culminating in a mournful contemplation on lost experiences and vanished days. Gervitz’s use of language is fluid and evocative, capturing the essence of transience and transformation.
Gervitz’s poetic pursuit of a language that shifts in meaning and interpretation is embodied in lines such as “I’m not going anywhere everything is here here is there.” This linguistic fluidity is further emphasized through Schafer’s translation, marking a continuous exploration of shifting perspectives and realities within the text. The poem encapsulates a life dedicated to the art of writing and revision, embodying a constant state of flux and evolution, much like the flowing waters that leave no lasting trace.
