In a sprawling reading at the Fresno Art Museum in 1992, Robert Mezey reads from his own poetry and also from his translations. (screen shot)
This is Episode 22 of the Fresno Poets Archive Project. It is a reading by Robert Mezey, recorded February 6, 1992 inside the Bonner Auditorium at the Fresno Art Museum. Background research and closed captioning for this video was conducted by student Aidan Castro in the fall of 2018. Aidan studied poetry at Fresno State, earning his MFA degree in May 2022. He writes about his experiences being a transgender man, and about his childhood while growing up in the Dinuba countryside.
Editor’s notes:
This episode was originally scheduled to debut in June 2020, just a few months after Mezey passed away, but the Covid-19 pandemic delayed its publication several years. Student researcher Aidan Castro was an undergraduate at the time the initial work was done, still a full year away from starting his graduate studies. The blog post he wrote back then, I think, sounds like it came from a different student. So instead, here’s a short excerpt from Aidan’s post, including a new original poem that might serve as an appreciation.
—Jefferson Beavers
By Aidan Castro
For the Fresno Poets Archive Project
On top of writing his own poetry, Robert Mezey was known for detailed translations. He has translated literature since age 12, working in Spanish, French, and Latin. He talks in the video about translating the work of the Spanish poet Jorge Luis Borges, among others. He talks about wanting to transcribe poetry back into verse, which is no easy task. Mezey’s translations made me think about my own translations (and mis-translations) of words in Spanish. Inspired by Mezey, here’s a poem of my own that’s a kind of translation. After reflecting on the archive video, I wrote it as a self-assignment:
Afternoons with Nana.
You and I do not understand each other very well,
but a homemade bean and cheese burrito
and a pat on my back lets me know that you care.
You and I struggle to communicate, but a finger point
and the repetition of a word in Spanish helps me understand.
You want me to grab the cup of Kool-Aid I left on the table.
We have never had a full conversation, yet I feel that you know
me better than I know myself. I let you stroke my hair
when I read Goosebumps, and you sing lyrics that I’ll never remember.
You watch me from a distance when I play pretend in Tata’s orchards,
because I know it means that you love me.
We Grow Writers 