The Woman Who Painted the Tremor of the Lotus

The woman who painted the tremor of the lotus, the one with the sincere, passionate verse, painted her own portrait in the poem titled precisely Carilda, written in 1949.

Speaking of Carilda Oliver Labra is to glimpse into her unique universe, so full of life experiences that shaped the richness of her love poetry.

Many years ago, I traveled to Matanzas to meet her in person, and it was an unforgettable experience. In the old house at Tirry 81, so full of memories, she welcomed the journalist eager to listen to this woman, one of the most remarkable figures in Cuban literature. She lived a love life whose chapters could very well make up an entire novel. She loved without compromise, was loved, and along that path —sometimes marked by the pain of shipwrecks— she knew of passions with no return and even of the death of one of her beloveds.

Always a transgressor, throughout her intense life she received numerous accolades, including the National Prize at the Hispanic-American Contest, acclaimed by the American Athenaeum in Washington, D.C.

Carilda passed away in her hometown on August 29, 2018, at the age of 96.

The renowned poet Miguel Barnet once said of her:

"Perhaps alone, but hand in hand with her contemporaries, classic in her craft, mysterious in her life, irreducible—Carilda winks at us sarcastically from behind the eclectic columns of her ancestral home at Tirry 81 and smiles at us with pity. What more can be said of this extraordinary woman, who, by being so visible, becomes invisible to us? What can be said of this torrent of opposing forces? Where can the keys to her mystery be found? Where can we truly find her?"

No words can accompany me because she is the unattainable, the blind woman who gazes at herself in her mirrors. The one who escapes through the enigmatic crack of her own verses. The one who, without masks, is all masks —and in the portrait, she simply appears to be a woman.

Translated by Sergio A. Paneque Díaz / CubaSí Translation Staff