Giulietta degli Spiriti

[tectak]

Bravo River...it would be churlish to say anything negative about this one. Though it is a familiar style, one might say "operatic", and so by content appealing to the simplistic audience, it is very accomplished. I am often surprised when I read the translation in to english of powerfull, punchy operas just how simple the words when not tied up in musicality. I can read this over and over. Nits in text...but I had to look for them
GIULIETTA DEGLI SPIRITI

1
Leaving my philandering husband Giorgio, I quickly set out
to make a mistress of myself to Sangria --
that is to say, as I boarded Jose's rickety boat
to Spain, I got myself
roaring drunk.Perhaps too many characters too soon, some of whom will be superfluous unless the plot thickens. It texturises to name names but thick shrouds cover things...I see difficulty in getting drunk as one boards a boat....perhaps before? I hate the "as" word

2
Who rides a boat to Spain?
Me and Gabriella took the train --

3
Sometimes I wonder if I'm really still Giulietta,
as I sit up smoking after love.Now there will be those who need to read the translation of the piece to work out who is who and who did what with whom. I am one. The "as" word really is getting me annoyed...but only a little

4
Me? I know I'm no longer Giorgio -- now, you call me Giorgina.
One night, after love,
I dreamed my sex was being pulled off of me bloodlessly,
like a stub of tallow stuck awkwardly between the legs.
That was the only change. Yet still, you and all others
acted as if I were finally complete,
as if I were your sister, fulfilling your dream
of a thirst quenched.The removeable todger is a known but your description of the dream is excellent. I do not think there are many ways a todger can be unplugged...or perhaps it is under-reported. If I were to describe the same dream I would use the same words...very effective.

5
The first thing we did once we reached Barcelona
was visit that famous unfinished cathedral,
Sagrada Familia. The name alone
made me shed a tear,
although I remember
it was not one for sadness.No problems with an introduced travelogue as long as there is purpose apparent....and I immediately assume that this is the case BUT I am not sure what....my failing?

6
That business trip I took -- I actually flew Gabriella
all the way to Hong Kong for a painting.
"Interior d'un Cafi". I told her seeing Paris
captured through the eyes of a complete stranger,
a revolutionary
who fought against Spain's stranglehold
over his country,
was better than actually going there.Beautiful, pertinent, musical, dreamy...I hope that is the intent. Works for me as a kind of grammatical device. I stopped, I paused, I moved through and on. I am not tired of this methodology yet...but take care not to over do it. There is not a thread made which cannot be broken.

7
I told Jose, I did not want to live by the sea again.Comma or nothing. No capital on "but"
But he refused, insisting the salt
would help clear my lungs. That was my problem,
he said, becoming breathless
over every little thing.Hmmm. An element of something close to bathos...I am not sure that this one keeps the faith. It is accidentaly trivial.

8
In fact, my plan was
to go to Tunisia -- she complained
with your voice, when she learned.
Why take the long way? she asked.
Why not go by boat?So this is where I churlish am. Strictly, not good grammar. Leave it.
I said I wanted to retrace the steps 
of our ancestors the Romans, reenact the farce
of the Punic Wars, eventually
of Aeneas leaving Dido.Yes, well you would say that, wouldn't you...that old excuse for coming home late. Yes, yes I get the "farce" but is it in keeping....it's that bathos again

9
Leaving you, I thought the spirits
would stop haunting me. Didn't I conquer them,
if not in this world of phenomena
then in the world of my memories,
your films? But they returned
one night, after love.
Neptune again rose from the sea,
again brought with him his great barge
of decay --Like. Like it all.

10
Then Venus appears next, in her golden veilThen and next. No.
and tight bikini -- then Bacchus the young god
with the girlish black hair and the over-shaven face
and the white breasted raiment that in your memories
still didn't distract from his sex -- then Pluto
or maybe Saturn burning your favorite doll --
then Jupiter your grandfather the lord of the heavens
flying through the mists to his
mistress Parisienne -- then what again?
Now I don't remember. That story you told me,
explaining why you were so breathless
after your brief visit to the neighbor's,
I wasn't really listening.

As I began by saying...what can I say? More like this if you have more. I feel a large Genre and Platonic coming on....
Best,
tectak