Carilda Oliver Labra was born in 1922 in Matanzas, Cuba. The coveted National Prize for poetry came to her in 1950 as a result of her book “Al Sur de mi Garganta” (At the South of my Throat). Today, her poems are known all over the world, and EXCELLENCES had a pleasant conversation with her.

Carilda Oliver Labra, is life and work, synthesis, and integration of what is indigenous in topics, languages and spirit. She is the muse of the Americas, vital and genuine, naive and daring, tender and passionate, a myth always in struggle with the reality, emblematic figure of the Cuban poetry and, in brief, unique in the art of surprise. Carilda does not get old, she has that special gift of being renovated in every new book, in each new poem, in each look at the mirror, always young. This mysterious strength emerges from inside which definitely attracts to everyone that approaches her. In her presence, we are trapped in time and space and with her, we are raised to the level of eternity.

It is known that "Al sur de mi garganta," national prize of poetry in 1959, was a milestone in your literary career; however, certain "critics" have taken this as a coat-of-arms so that, in certain way, diminish your further work, stating that this is a "unique work" that announces the birth and death of the true poetic genius. What can you say in this regard? I spent most of my time in many unimportant things and when I realized what poetry was and is (everything), my life is almost being concluded, I mean in the sense of being productive. This doesn’t mean that a verse doesn’t come out, but that I lost the best years of creation, that I should have attended more these interests, have got acquainted with it, have formed my own separate world, but with the accomplice background so necessary for poets. Everything has come to my knowledge very late, but at least I have known it. Though I don’t believe that because I was granted the National Prize of Literature, this makes me a queen nor makes me untouchable. I do think that since the poem "Al sur...” until now, much time has elapsed and from these lyrical times, some texts have been left that are superior than the previous ones. Those which do not have pureness nor clearness, have been compensated by a conceptual strength, perhaps, a wide thematic diversity, certain sobriety on occasions and, in brief, the conquest of maturity and work, plus the innate trend, now in development, to "dare" that if it is true that I have become the target of "irreverent provocations," such a relaxation and audacity in the expression have given certain singularity to my work and have saved me from a very sweet romanticism. It is illogical that "Al sur..." is regarded as comprehensibly superior to other books as Desaparece el polvo (Dust has Gone) or Se me ha perdido un hombre (A Man Has Disappeared from Me), since the former is superior in its fresh air and in the simple way that portraits youth. In the rest of my work later cited, certain philosophical connotation is attained in some poems, a deeper search in the reality of the human beings and less pain, but a major support in the social element, the language is more loosely and lightness of manner and a link between the intellect and the emotion is established. But I don’t feel disappointed for these views because, at least, I was taken into account at least for the first book and of course this is already an amazing prize that I receive in my seventh decade, bearing in mind that I have not the ingenious talent of Rimbaud, to whom a single book made him a celebrated poet.

The binomial myth-reality, inherent to your life and work, renders this air of mystery that attracts hopelessly curious people. Why that story of the myth? In reference to the myth you mentioned, everybody knows more than me, in fact, I’m the victim. I bear no responsibility since what shocks the others seems natural to me. When I was about 30, I liked, sometimes, matching the color of the dress I was wearing with my blond her, I didn’t invent that match but Revlon laboratories. Yes, there was something named "accent" and comprising a range of shades, according to the taste and occasion. Of course the poetess was not insane but simply likes to wear the rainbow to get rid of the provincial monotony and because she loved plastic arts...Well things like that make people uneasy but I didn’t care. Then certain love affairs came that I did not share, unjustifiable facts that decorated with tragedy my fame, that of being a mischievous poet. I’m more serious than the sphinx, but nobody has never believed that. I have never drunk nor smoked. For years I have been in complete sexual abstinence. I go to bed at 3 o’clock but with Miller, Einstein, Huxley or Darío. People keep on talking that a poet went up to Aconcagua to shout my name, that I have seventeen cats (not true, I only have five and a dog), in addition to my man, that also has the soul of a tiger. They comment that I had had three husbands who were demons, terrestrial gods that I took a good advantage of to set fire to the Cuban Parnassus. Well this is not so fabulous, they were the fabulous ones who endured my presence: the first one for 7 years, the second one for 17 and the present one has been held for 10 years. Of course, he and me are in two different crosses. People’s "talk" inclines to praise my "men"—as you put it—with eccentric features. It’s true they all have had magnetism, talent and audacity. On the other hand, I’m natural, simple, spontaneous. I don’t like luxury but sobriety. I don’t go to parties nor gatherings, I’m addicted to family, reading, I love the stars, plants, flowers, humble people but not vulgar, good cuisine, milk, animals, perfumes, my city, stones—precious or not—sincere friends, humor, Cuba. This is my reality and I believe that has nothing to do with what is called myth.

Can Carilda’s work be classified as neo-romantic? I don’t consider that my work can be classified as neo-romantic. At the beginning we had the influence of readings, the things of the epoch, even the way of dressing, to fall in love, to live life...; but everything evolves. It’s not dialectical that in the 21st century I want to deal with a verse from my adolescence. I have got rid of sweet adjectives, of sentimentalism, of the hyperbolic first person, of the superlative emotion, of the very anecdotal themes. I believe that neo-romanticism is a highly transcendental movement, though in Cuba the considerations regarding these topics have been perverted.

Despite the diversity of styles and your cosmos of imagination in your poetry, you have been regarded as a writer of erotic poetry. Do you admit this polarizing trend? I simply cannot admit this polarized treatment since this would be as denying myself. Poetry always reflects the author’s personality and feelings. This is like accepting that love is the only motivation I have; however, undoubtedly love is the energy that makes life and its consequences operates in general. On the other hand, we are social beings, and when one is a true human being, I mean when life is assumed with all the duties and actions involved, one cannot become an essentially erotic being, deprived of the universe and its endless complexities. A creator should be open to this unavoidable encounter with progress. It is impossible to live ignoring the key of scientific progress, computer science, the cosmos science, nuclear physics, informatics and so many lights that lit on us. What happens is that perhaps my poetry has attained a higher expressive nature in this topic or perhaps relaxation, audacity, carnality released by its particular force may have resulted in the shaping of these views. This is because I love to love, the fact that I have always loved, that I’m still in love, that my bones will continue loving and also because people want to be loved, loved, loved.

Carilda, what do you expect from life? Everything, but death.

Upon leaving her house, I feel now the taste of eternal, the ever-lasting feeling of having traveled along a magic cosmos, that of transcendental poetry and the certainty of my definite identification with this particular and human form of that sense of real and fiction also found in Carilda Oliver Labra.