This translation offers to English readers for the first time the splendid verse of imaginary American author Sidney West, created by Juan Gelman, one of the greatest living poets of the Hispanic world. These laments question Western assumptions surrounding death, erase boundaries between poetry and narrative, privilege the magical as a vital aspect of reality and seek the transformation of the lyric persona.

lament for sim simmon’s weeping one autumn morning sim simmons woke without eyes as if they had fallen in favor of the season “but no matter” he said and smoothed his memory “no matter no matter at all” sim simmons would say placing empty trees in eye sockets trees he fed with stampedes cries forgetfulness silent parts nocturnal insects death’s bearers made their rounds through the trees “no matter” sim would say spreading his tender wings and circling the sky “if I were a cloud” he would say “if I were a falcon or catastrophe what my heart eats away at” he would say “you have quenched yourself dove” sim simmons would say without weeping “I have no eyes to cry” he would say “but I should” he would say remembering everything vegetable water weeping rain or river needs a tender nest to guard against the cold and so sim simmons began to weep the trees flew all around him and once again he had eyes to watch or to see or to suffer and to weep without feeding anyone “I deserve it” sim simmons would say late “I quite deserve it” he would say with his eyes now dry hard brilliant as the sun beneath the Alabama land two rivers were born where they buried him one toward the north the other toward the south for memory for oblivion and everyone had water but sim simmons did not: he looked downward now deserving or dead or sad without trees without trees