[Alexandra Baez]

You can be vocally critical as well as silently admiring, you know. Each of us can only do so much, but I just want to make sure you’re not one of those misguided Sphereans who think they have nothing to contribute if they don’t know the language being translated.

I’ve thought about it, but I feel intimidated at the idea of being surrounded by seasoned translators, who it seems would have a much tighter and nimbler grasp on the issues at stake. And I know that these issues aren't confined to linguistic ones in a narrow sense, since a keen grasp on the nature and perspective of the poet as well as his broader cultural context is also critical. For these reasons, I’d feel rather presumptuous having a hack at it with such a limited tool kit as I carry . . . however, you’ve extended the invitation, so I’ll try sometime and see if I can generate any comments that I could post without cringing too much. I certainly think that the things you and others have been translating—in translation, anyway—are incredibly vigorous and exciting.

I actually thought it was a rather comical image of kidnappers dressed up as shepherds and Wise Men, but it could be read more realistically, I suppose.

Yes, it feels comical if one is certain that it’s supposed to be, but I didn’t feel well enough prepared for that. The fears are designated as the child’s, and yet the adult is avoiding going down the street. If you were even to substitute L3’s “all” for “but,” I’d feel much more clued in.

I don’t mind some initial confusion as long as the real fear comes into focus by the end. The poem is as conflicted and ambivalent as my own feelings.

I guess I’d like the confusion to be presented in a somewhat less confusing way, if you know what I mean. That is, I think it’s possible to convey conflicted feelings while maintaining some inner core of omniscient clarity for the reader to hold onto, helped by some slight foreshadowing at the beginning—a sense that the poem is in control of what it’s trying to do, if not of its feelings. That’s what makes me fully trust and engage with a poem.

A couple commenters suggested that the poem would benefit from being even darker! You’ve understood that “affection/nostalgia” is the real source of my avoidance anxiety, but apparently think others won’t get it.

That's because it was only thanks to your comments that I felt certain of the “real source of avoidance anxiety.” Your poem's ending on this note did help, but there were still contradictory elements in the beginning to reconcile with that. “Even darker” would be interesting in its own way, but based on your comments, I divined that that’s not what you were after.

So you read “to blend in” as a sort of headless double iamb? That seems awfully complicated to me, but then I’m more of a chanter than a natural reader. When I pick up on a strong meter, I fall into the groove and take it as far as I can.

Yes, that's how I naturally read "to blend in," with no effort toward complexity. I know what you mean about your chanting approach to reading, but I think it's a minority one.

Others seem to be tripping over “LCD” too, so you must be right. I could reluctantly replace it with “The TV.”

Or, you could say something like

And the LCD screens and bright fairy lights blink

with a little artful extra stress on "bright" or whatever feels its place. Or you could go with 1st/3rd foot variations, the likes of which are common and quite acceptable, even refreshing, in anapestic verse:

LCD screens and fairy lights blink

It’s a generic you: how would you (whoever you are) feel if you, like the unnamed sofa sitter (my dad or maybe me)—glanced up and saw a ghost looking in.

Okay; for me, part of the confusion with this is that you haven’t specified (in the poem) who you pictured the unnamed sofa sitter to be, and I was left floundering around trying to guess--which is understandable, since even you aren't committed on this point. Jim had suggested “his” instead of “your” in L10; I’m wondering how it would be to take it a step further and say

to glance up from Dad’s plastic-clad sofa, aghast,
at a ghost looking in on his snug Christmas past!

But this bunks up the meter a bit, and there would probably be readers who'd interpret "his" to refer to Dad, not the ghost, even though this interpretation isn't grammatically correct. And of course, your premise is inherently convoluted, especially if the unnamed sitter is the n himself. For this reason, I didn't even try to do an n-sitter version. Aack! Still, convolution is the fun of this passage. If it just could be tamed a wee bit . . .