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Naira Hambardzumyan

Julio Cortazar: Speak, you have three minutes, (poems)

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Argentinean writer Julio Cortazar (1914-1984) is famous in all over the world as one of the founders of new “Latin-American “novel, as an innovator prose-writer. Cortazar is less known to readers as poet, although he wrote poems during all his life. Poems which were created till 1983 and were published the first time after the author’s death are included in this collection.
Armenian translation of this collection is presented the first time.









"I invented you, I live"

Having lived most of his life in Europe Cortazar has never broken off his relations with Latin – American literature and Argentina. That’s why he is often said about ‘’the most argentinean among Argerntineans’’.
"…As an Orpheus, I have much looked back and paid for it. And I have been paying till now. I am always looking and I should look at you, my Evridika – Argentina’’, he confessed.
Cortazar is always unexpected and paradoxical. His novels are famous for their new unusual style, for ecletic system of introduced phenomena.
An experimental spirit is present in his novels from beginning to end.
Cortazar died as a famous prose – writer.
He started his way as a poet with the collection of sonnets ‘’ Presence’’ (1938).
The collection of poems ‘’Only Twilights’’, written in 1950 – 1983, was published in May, 1984 after his death.
‘’I read poets more than prose – writers. Poetry is an natural for me, as prose. I am not ashamed to write them. I simply think poetry is something dear…’’ , once he said.
People’s revolutionary struggle in Cuba is presented in a number of his stories and poems.
One of the revolutionary episodes headed by Fidel Kastro from the ‘’Yranma’’ ship in 1956 is described in his well – known story (Reunion) published in 1964.
Cortazar states new spiritual moves and creates a new reality in reality which is also a process of peculiar self – purification.
The poet is able to see the life in philosophical sphere of time.
His conflict with the world is rather a monologue, a monologue through psychological infiltration.
Cortazar is with himself and with the world as a man, as a poet, and as a citizen.

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And I will sleep one day
(like an old pre man)
Just
Without the blanket.
And the wind will flap the foliage of the pines,
And the angels will hang from the night with bet eyes far away
In the time of their declension:
And again things will slumber in peace
Until morning
And the process again
Will mix signs to the life.
And there will be no one
To stop my fall,
In the time of declension.

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