Distancia Cero
En la distancia cero amamos la vida
(at zero distance we love life)
Distancia Cero, my first book, is a collection of poems that speak of places visited and traveled, near and far, a constant ebb and flow. I use my first language to talk about special places in Australia and Argentina.
Excerpt translated from the book:
This introductory poem is included in addition to the book's contents and is reproduced here in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it.
Distancia cero - Zero Distance
Translated by Eyal Chipkiewicz
where the roads begin
where we connect to a land without scale
where we belong to the universe
indivisible
in harmony
where we feel protected, blissful and expectant
zero distance is where we love life
My home in Hurstbridge.
Here my records, my books and my orchard.
Here my soulmate.
Here my children grew up.
Light plunges in through the windows.
Zero distance to my present.
Campo de Piedra Pomez, Catamarca Province. 12,212 km.
A landscape under construction,
mobility of the universe, volcanoes, lava, sand.
The wind sculpts the shapes.
Zero distance to a geological landscape
in a permanent state of imperceptible change.
Ubirr, Arnhem Land, Northern Territory. 15,150 km
Promontory where our ancestors dwelled,
where the gods danced with the turtles and the
barramundi,
from where they headed South, East and West.
Zero distance to the stories of the continent,
to the all-renewing flood
Chalten, Santa Cruz Province. 12,766 km.
Hill of smoke, glaciers, Las Vueltas river,
valley of polished pebbles, your outline in the horizon,
wayfarer’s land.
Zero distance to what is possible,
to contemplating what we call life.
Upper Stand, Monumental de Nuñez Stadium. 1,928 km.
The commons. Here we are, together,
singing, jumping, as one,
we huddle in the clamor of a goal.
Zero distance to being Riverplatense,
among a horde of likes.
My house in Burzaco, Buenos Aires Province, 32 km.
I grew up here, with my mother, my siblings,
my grandparents and my friends.
From here my first departure, my first broken ties.
the decision to grow and become self-reliant.
Zero distance to my identity, to my journey through life,
the endless pendulation of place.
Amata, Southern Australia, 13,160 km.
On the boulders, symbols
steering the thirsty to water,
to the crossing of desert tracks.
Here millenary knolls protect
the mysteries of the final hours.
Zero distance to the stories of the desert,
to feeling one with the cosmos.
Yard of the Casona del Molino, Salta Province, 14,070 km.
Empanadas, steak, wine,
guitars, drums and song.
Verses reel off every throat.
The spirit of Cuchi embodied.
Zero distance to the people of Salta, to the Zamba and
the Chacarera,
to the barely cracked dawn.
Rio Salado, General Belgrano, Buenos Aires Province, 1,388 km.
Fishing for mullet, silverside or trahira,
eating in the shade of trees on a summer day,
letting go to the flow of the river’s murky water,
to my grandfather’s laughter.
Zero distance to my teenage years.
Cape Conran, State of Victoria, 11,370 km.
The sea, the cabins in the dunes,
early morning fishing, mates around the fire, nephews,
brothers,
people I love,
gathering, year after year.
Zero distance to my future,
to the sight of my children at play.
zero distance
infinite distance
the journey continues
oscillating between here and there
Other people’s opinion:
In an interview for SBS Español with Esther Lozano, she writes
(translated from Spanish):
With his work, Daniel speaks to the Latin American immigrant in his unresolved duality of coming and going between the place where he was born and this land, like a pendulum that swings between two countries. When asked if nostalgia is a feeling that reflects loss or gain, Sacchero assures that "that fact of wanting the place where we were born or live, is something positive because having these two places that pull our soul makes us grow, learn and experience things that others cannot.
ESTHER LOZANO, SBS ESPAÑOL
Listen to the interview here.