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This is a gallery of work specially created for #ThinAir2023. Spend time with writers you love, and discover some new favourites! Ceci est une galerie de travaux spécialement créée pour #ThinAir2023. Passez du temps avec des écrivains que vous aimez et découvrez de nouveaux favoris!Erín Moure is a poet and translator based in Montreal. She has published 18 books of poetry, a coauthored book of poetry, essays, articles on translation, a biopoetics and two memoirs, and is translator or co-translator of 26 books, mostly poetry, from French, Galician, Portunhol, Portuguese, Spanish, and Ukrainian (with Roman Ivashkiv) into English, and from English into French. Most recent books: Chus Pato’s The Face of the Quartzes (Veliz Books, 2021) and two chapbooks: Retooling for a Figurative Life (Vallum, 2021) an Arborescence (Columba, 2022). Her translation of Chantal Neveu’s This Radiant Life (Book*hug Press, 2020) won the 2021 GG for translation into English and the Nelson Ball Prize. Moure holds two honorary doctorates from universities in Canada and Spain, was 2017 WPR Creative Fellow at the Woodberry Poetry Room at Harvard, 2019 international translator in residence at The Queen’s College, Oxford University, 2020 Kelly Writers House Fellow at UPenn, and gave the 2021 Leslie Scalapino Memorial Lecture at Naropa University. In 2021, she was Jake MacDonald writer in virtual residence at the University of Winnipeg. Moure’s Theophylline: a poetic migration via the modernisms of Rukeyser, Bishop, Grimké, is upcoming in August 2023 from House of Anansi Press.
Interview / Entrevue
None. My papai loved all books, and my mom didn’t especially read books (well she read two that I know of, James Michener’s Hawaii, and Grant McEwen’s John Ware’s Cow Country, but otherwise preferred the newspaper and her professional journals).
“Je est un autre.” French poet Arthur Rimbaud (in a letter to Paul Demeny dated 15 May 1871 but cited in many books). I is another. Or: I is someone else. Or: I is an Other.
Clean-clutter, which is to say, I have a system for clearing off the dining table when guests are coming!
Worries only wake me up at night if someone dear is ill or dying, and I can’t make them better. It’s like a vigil sense, a practice of care, not a worry, really. (Also if I read the news too close to bedtime... but I try not to do that.)
If I told you, it wouldn’t be secret! I actually had to google “ambition” and read what it is.
The first meaning is: “a strong desire to achieve something”. It makes me think of Fernando Pessoa, in Alberto Caeiro’s O Guardador de Rebanhos:
Não tenho ambiçoes nem desejos.
Ser poeta não é uma ambiçao minha.
É a minha maneira de estar sozinho.”
Which means, I have neither ambitions or desires. Being a poet is not an ambition of mine. It’s my way of being alone. in Sheep’s Vigil by a Fervent Person (Anansi, 2001) this was slightly altered by the translator, Eirin Moure:
Ambitions and desires? My head’s wet.
Being a poet isn’t an ambition,
it’s a version of being alone.
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