Poetry review – DIAMONDS & RUST: Charles Rammelkamp engages with Catalina Vergara’s love poem both in its original Spanish and as rendered in English by Tiffany Troy
diamonds & rust
Catalina Vergara
translated by Tiffany Troy
Toad Press, 2025
34 pages $6.00
This book channels Joan Baez’s famous 1975 song, “Diamonds and Rust,” which was inspired by Baez’s fraught, tempestuous relationship with Bob Dylan ten years earlier, in which she ruminates on the legacy of love (mainly its disappointments though acknowledging the precious-jewel experience). Catalina Vergara’s lengthy lyrical poem – for it really is a single poem more than a series of separate lyrics – captures the sense of unrequited longing at the heart of the experience while also elevating the drama to “galactical” proportions. While my own command of Spanish is rudimentary, the language nevertheless clearly conveys that sense of resignation and doom that the soulful Baez was able to express with her powerful soprano voice with its haunting vibrato. Tiffany Troy’s English translation, on which this reviewer relied, for the confidence of its meaning, likewise apprehends and depicts that global sense of crisis and resolution.
Vergara opens the poem:
marte es una planeta
inhabitable marte es un
desierto
de óxido
In Troy’s translation, this becomes:
mars is a crummy planet
mars is a
desert of
rust
A “crummy” planet? The colloquialism is almost shocking in its boldness. Vergara has observed that Mars is literally an “uninhabitable planet.” Where did “crummy” come from, even if it does get right to the essence of the situation? Troy is making a subtle reference to Baez’s lyric, in which she sings to her former lover:
Now you’re smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Just as Baez’s view is retrospective here, a vivid memory, so the poet’s and the translator’s tone is full of a world-weary resignation.
Of course, just as Venus is the female principle (“madre Venus” Vergara calls her), so Mars represents the masculine impulse. Mars is cold, inflexible – “uninhabitable,” indeed. The object of the poet’s longing is another woman. Vergara concludes the poem:
en el centro de otra Tierra reencarnemos
amantes juntas
prometon reencarnar libre o reencarnar analfabeta
de ese poesia apócrifa que sostienen tus dedos
drena musica marina,
constelaciones de
sueño
al centro de este océano de sombras en
las islas de bassura submarina disecada
fosil óxido
te espera mi
cuerpo
Troy’s translation:
at the center of another Earth let us be reborn
as lesbians together
I promise to burst free or – before letters
that apocryphal poetry succoring your fingers—
barge music drained
sleepy constellations—
at the center of this ocean of shadows
in islands submerged dissected garbage
rusted fossil
my body
awaits
What an image of desire on which to end the poem! An image of longing, of craving, of yearning, of eternal, devoted waiting. Her whole body waits. Silence is the fertile soil in which this unsatisfied desire grows. Silence, indeed, is a key image in diamonds & rust. As Vergara writes near the beginning the poem,
en esta sexta dimension de marte joan
baez reescribe
el silencio
Troy nimbly translates this:
in the sixth dimension of mars, joan
baez re-writes
silence
What is the “sixth” dimension? The sixth dimension is essentially the “multiverse” – it contains all possibilities. The poet imagines a kind of fulfillment in the silence of dream that spells out the essence of the sixth dimension. In a note, Vergara explains her drive behind diamonds & rust, “El poemario es una sutura entre mi dolor, el de Baez y el silencio de aquellos que sufren por un amor imposible, una relacion corosiva.” (“The collection of poems is a suture between my pain, Baez’s pain, and the silence of those who suffer from an impossible love, a corrosive relationship.”) Re-written silence means suffering may be redeemed in another world, a parallel universe. Call it wish-fulfillment or liken it to the 18th century German “Sturm und Drang” movement with its emphasis on intense emotion, the impulse is sincere, searing.
What is this “impossible love”? We hear the poet’s plaintive cry: “el dictado de tus voces pero / no se Volver.” Enthralled by the sound of her beloved’s voice, yet she is helpless to respond. Indeed, the poet is powerless “en el silencio de mi closet” (“in the silence of my closet”). The operative word, of course, is “closet.” The closet has always been an image of silent suffering, of a solitary suffocation.
The poet is clearly wounded, suffering from love. She writes, “Y eso que sale de la herida es la cancion de Joan Baez Que tiene tanto elementos cotidianos e imagenes contemplativas (sus memorias con Bob Dylan) como recursos cripticos.” (“And that which comes out of the wound is the song by Joan Baez that has both everyday elements and contemplative images (her memories with Bob Dylan) as well as cryptic resources.”) The “wound” – la herida – is the motivation behind the healing impulse of the poem.
In a clear reference to Baez’s song, in which Baez’s former lover calls her from a telephone booth somewhere in the Midwest (Minnesota, perhaps? Dylan’s native state?), Vergara addresses the singer, who for the moment also becomes the elusive lover to whom diamonds & rust is addressed:
te sigue el criminal en cada amante y yo
enmudezco
citas las palabras que te dijo por teléfono
ese hombre
carencia (de luz)
y caminas sin mi en nuestra ultima Lluvia
Enmudezco – “I am silent.” Troy translates this verse:
a vagabond,
I silently follow the lover in your every lover
you repeat words that lack(luster) man
said to you, and embrace him
as I hang alone
in our last rain
The word “vagabond” likewise refers to Baez’s song, in which she calls her lover (Bob Dylan, though there is some dispute as to whom Joan Baez is referring in “Diamonds and Rust.” Another possibility, which Baez herself suggested, perhaps disingenuously, is her former husband, David Harris.) “Already a legend / The unwashed phenomenon / The original vagabond.” Vergara’s term is “criminal,” but “vagabond” is a brilliant stroke on Troy’s part, at once a reference to Baez’s lyrics, yoking the two poems more tightly, but “vagabond” also captures the sense of the wanderer, the drifter, the person who “shows up in every lover”, a different avatar of the same phenomenon.
The stage for diamonds & rust is truly galactical. Vergara writes about the arc of desire and love in the context of the universe, sun, moon, stars, the “sleepy constellations”, the ocean, the heavens. Here on earth, the poet tells her beloved, “drena el calor de las estrellas.” She “drains the fever of the stars.” Again, this is reminiscent of Sturm und Drang. Think of Goethe and his Sorrows of Young Werther.
Vergara also alludes to the fifth dimension as well as the sixth: her view is panoramic. The fifth dimension is a mathematical or philosophical concept. In mathematics, it represents a hypothetical space with five independent dimensions, extending our familiar three spatial dimensions and time. In spiritual and philosophical contexts, the fifth dimension often describes a higher realm of existence, a state of consciousness, or a way of perceiving reality beyond the limitations of the three-dimensional world. Vergara writes:
entremedio del metal en
el vacio
en el cielo de marte hay un
letrero escrito en la quinta
dimension que dice
como un fantasma
On the facing page, Troy translates this:
between metal in
the void of
mars’ sky
a sign written in the fifth
dimension, speaking like
a ghost.
The drama has clearly gone beyond the conventional limitations of the “real” world to an all-encompassing “reality” that embraces the noumenal as well as the phenomenal. And while humbly admitting her limitations to her beloved, given this vast canvas on which she paints, the poet firmly asserts her intentions to persevere.
no sé volver
ni escribir
despierto en corrientes de petroleo en
un lago de colores y
muerte y
a veces despierto silencio en tu casa bajo
cien soles calcinando mis sentidos
Troy’s translation again takes some liberties with the text. Note how “a lake of colors and / death” (“un lago de colores y / muerte”) becomes “a lake of diamonds and / rust,” beautifully alluding to the very sentiments Baez expresses in her song.
though I don’t know
how to return or write
I arise, amid
crude oil
waves in a lake of diamonds and
rust
sometimes mute in your home below
a hundred suns kindle my desires
Consumed by her desire, the poet still recognizes that these feelings are not reciprocal: “gritas el nombre del amor de su vida (que no soy yo)” – “you call out the name of the love / of your life (not me).” Again, how like the protagonist of Goethe’s novel; the agony that is young Werther’s mental state when Charlotte does not return his love.
But ah, she remembers brief moments of intimacy, if not shared: “una vez toqué sus cabellos,” she recalls (“once I touched your tresses”) “y llanto.” I cry. As Joan Baez plaintively sang,
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust
Catalina Vergara is a native of Santiago, Chile. In her insightful commentary, Tiffany Troy considers diamonds & rust in light of the Pinochet regime’s overthrow of Chilean democracy under Allende, which occurred only a year before Joan Baez composed her song. Not that the two are related, but the zeitgeist nevertheless connects the two, for Vergara composed diamonds & rust under the tutelage of Raul Zurita, a leading critic of the Pinochet regime.
Jul 17 2025
London Grip Poetry Review – Catalina Vergara
Poetry review – DIAMONDS & RUST: Charles Rammelkamp engages with Catalina Vergara’s love poem both in its original Spanish and as rendered in English by Tiffany Troy
This book channels Joan Baez’s famous 1975 song, “Diamonds and Rust,” which was inspired by Baez’s fraught, tempestuous relationship with Bob Dylan ten years earlier, in which she ruminates on the legacy of love (mainly its disappointments though acknowledging the precious-jewel experience). Catalina Vergara’s lengthy lyrical poem – for it really is a single poem more than a series of separate lyrics – captures the sense of unrequited longing at the heart of the experience while also elevating the drama to “galactical” proportions. While my own command of Spanish is rudimentary, the language nevertheless clearly conveys that sense of resignation and doom that the soulful Baez was able to express with her powerful soprano voice with its haunting vibrato. Tiffany Troy’s English translation, on which this reviewer relied, for the confidence of its meaning, likewise apprehends and depicts that global sense of crisis and resolution.
Vergara opens the poem:
In Troy’s translation, this becomes:
A “crummy” planet? The colloquialism is almost shocking in its boldness. Vergara has observed that Mars is literally an “uninhabitable planet.” Where did “crummy” come from, even if it does get right to the essence of the situation? Troy is making a subtle reference to Baez’s lyric, in which she sings to her former lover:
Just as Baez’s view is retrospective here, a vivid memory, so the poet’s and the translator’s tone is full of a world-weary resignation.
Of course, just as Venus is the female principle (“madre Venus” Vergara calls her), so Mars represents the masculine impulse. Mars is cold, inflexible – “uninhabitable,” indeed. The object of the poet’s longing is another woman. Vergara concludes the poem:
Troy’s translation:
What an image of desire on which to end the poem! An image of longing, of craving, of yearning, of eternal, devoted waiting. Her whole body waits. Silence is the fertile soil in which this unsatisfied desire grows. Silence, indeed, is a key image in diamonds & rust. As Vergara writes near the beginning the poem,
Troy nimbly translates this:
What is the “sixth” dimension? The sixth dimension is essentially the “multiverse” – it contains all possibilities. The poet imagines a kind of fulfillment in the silence of dream that spells out the essence of the sixth dimension. In a note, Vergara explains her drive behind diamonds & rust, “El poemario es una sutura entre mi dolor, el de Baez y el silencio de aquellos que sufren por un amor imposible, una relacion corosiva.” (“The collection of poems is a suture between my pain, Baez’s pain, and the silence of those who suffer from an impossible love, a corrosive relationship.”) Re-written silence means suffering may be redeemed in another world, a parallel universe. Call it wish-fulfillment or liken it to the 18th century German “Sturm und Drang” movement with its emphasis on intense emotion, the impulse is sincere, searing.
What is this “impossible love”? We hear the poet’s plaintive cry: “el dictado de tus voces pero / no se Volver.” Enthralled by the sound of her beloved’s voice, yet she is helpless to respond. Indeed, the poet is powerless “en el silencio de mi closet” (“in the silence of my closet”). The operative word, of course, is “closet.” The closet has always been an image of silent suffering, of a solitary suffocation.
The poet is clearly wounded, suffering from love. She writes, “Y eso que sale de la herida es la cancion de Joan Baez Que tiene tanto elementos cotidianos e imagenes contemplativas (sus memorias con Bob Dylan) como recursos cripticos.” (“And that which comes out of the wound is the song by Joan Baez that has both everyday elements and contemplative images (her memories with Bob Dylan) as well as cryptic resources.”) The “wound” – la herida – is the motivation behind the healing impulse of the poem.
In a clear reference to Baez’s song, in which Baez’s former lover calls her from a telephone booth somewhere in the Midwest (Minnesota, perhaps? Dylan’s native state?), Vergara addresses the singer, who for the moment also becomes the elusive lover to whom diamonds & rust is addressed:
Enmudezco – “I am silent.” Troy translates this verse:
The word “vagabond” likewise refers to Baez’s song, in which she calls her lover (Bob Dylan, though there is some dispute as to whom Joan Baez is referring in “Diamonds and Rust.” Another possibility, which Baez herself suggested, perhaps disingenuously, is her former husband, David Harris.) “Already a legend / The unwashed phenomenon / The original vagabond.” Vergara’s term is “criminal,” but “vagabond” is a brilliant stroke on Troy’s part, at once a reference to Baez’s lyrics, yoking the two poems more tightly, but “vagabond” also captures the sense of the wanderer, the drifter, the person who “shows up in every lover”, a different avatar of the same phenomenon.
The stage for diamonds & rust is truly galactical. Vergara writes about the arc of desire and love in the context of the universe, sun, moon, stars, the “sleepy constellations”, the ocean, the heavens. Here on earth, the poet tells her beloved, “drena el calor de las estrellas.” She “drains the fever of the stars.” Again, this is reminiscent of Sturm und Drang. Think of Goethe and his Sorrows of Young Werther.
Vergara also alludes to the fifth dimension as well as the sixth: her view is panoramic. The fifth dimension is a mathematical or philosophical concept. In mathematics, it represents a hypothetical space with five independent dimensions, extending our familiar three spatial dimensions and time. In spiritual and philosophical contexts, the fifth dimension often describes a higher realm of existence, a state of consciousness, or a way of perceiving reality beyond the limitations of the three-dimensional world. Vergara writes:
On the facing page, Troy translates this:
The drama has clearly gone beyond the conventional limitations of the “real” world to an all-encompassing “reality” that embraces the noumenal as well as the phenomenal. And while humbly admitting her limitations to her beloved, given this vast canvas on which she paints, the poet firmly asserts her intentions to persevere.
Troy’s translation again takes some liberties with the text. Note how “a lake of colors and / death” (“un lago de colores y / muerte”) becomes “a lake of diamonds and / rust,” beautifully alluding to the very sentiments Baez expresses in her song.
Consumed by her desire, the poet still recognizes that these feelings are not reciprocal: “gritas el nombre del amor de su vida (que no soy yo)” – “you call out the name of the love / of your life (not me).” Again, how like the protagonist of Goethe’s novel; the agony that is young Werther’s mental state when Charlotte does not return his love.
But ah, she remembers brief moments of intimacy, if not shared: “una vez toqué sus cabellos,” she recalls (“once I touched your tresses”) “y llanto.” I cry. As Joan Baez plaintively sang,
Catalina Vergara is a native of Santiago, Chile. In her insightful commentary, Tiffany Troy considers diamonds & rust in light of the Pinochet regime’s overthrow of Chilean democracy under Allende, which occurred only a year before Joan Baez composed her song. Not that the two are related, but the zeitgeist nevertheless connects the two, for Vergara composed diamonds & rust under the tutelage of Raul Zurita, a leading critic of the Pinochet regime.