Sunday, October 14, 2007

Doctor Francia - 2






From Neruda's Canto General (V:1):


The Paraná among the tangled, humid and pulsating

Regions of other rivers

the Yabebirí: that web of waters.

And Acaray, Igurey, twin jewels colored

With quebracho and surrounded by the thick branches

Of copal trees,

goes on toward atlantic savannahs

Brushing along the delirium of the purple nazarene,

And the roots of the curupay plant in its sandy dreams.


The hot silt and the thrones of the devoring caiman

Amidst pestilence

Doctor Francia crossed over to the seat of Paraguay

And lived among rose windows

Of pink masonry

Like a sordid, imperial statue

Covered with the veils of the shadowy spider.


Solitary grandeur

In a hall full of mirrors

A frightful figure dressed in black

Over red felt

And fearful rats in the night.



False column,

Perverse academy,

A leperous king’s agnosticism

Surround by vast fields of grass

Drinking platonic numbers

At the condemned man’s gallows.

He calculated triangles in the stars,

measuring stellar coordinates

with a watch

as Paraguay’s orange night approached.

And even during the death throws of

the condemned man seen from his window

he had his hand on the lock of captive twilight.


Study materials strewn on the table

His eyes were fixed on the spir of the firmament

In the shifting crystals of geometry

While the intestinal blood

of the man slain by bayonnet buts

flowed down the stairs,

Drunk up by green swarms of flickering flies.


He closed off Paraguay

Like a nest for his Majesty

He tied torture and mud to its borders

When his siluet passes by the street

The indians glance at the city walls

As his shadow bounces off them

Creating two walls of shivering fear.


When death came to Doctor Francia

He was motionless and dumb

Alone in his cave and

Tied down within himself,

By the ropes of paralysis.

He went through his final agony and died alone

Without anyone entering the room.

For no one dared to knock on the master’s door.


Tied up by these serpents

Speachless and with his brain boiled

He died lost in the solitude of his palace

While night, established like a university chair

Devored the miserable capital columns

Sprinkled with martyrdom



El doctor Francia


El Paraná en las zonas marañosas,
húmedas, palpitantes de otros ríos
donde la red del agua, Yabebirí,
Acaray, Igurey, joyas gemelas
teñidas de quebracho, rodeadas
por las espesas copas del copal,
transcurre hacia las sábanas atlánticas
arrastrando el delirio
del nazaret morado, las raíces
del curupay en su sueño arenoso.

Del légamo caliente, de los tronos
del yacaré devorador, en medio
de la pestilencia silvestre
cruzó el doctor Rodríguez de Francia
hacia el sillón del Paraguay.
Y vivió entre los rosetones
de rosada mampostería
como una estatua sórdida y cesárea
cubierta por los velos de la araña sombría.

Solitaria grandeza en el salòn
lleno de espejos, espantajo
negro sobre felpa roja
y ratas asustadas en la noche.
Falsa columna, perversa
academia, agnosticismo
de rey leproso, rodeado
por la extensión de los yerbales
bebiendo números platónicos
en la horca del ajusticiado,
contando triángulos de estrellas,
midiendo claves estelares,
acechando el anaranjado
atardecer del Paraguay
con un reloj en la agonía
del fusilado en su ventana,
con una mano en el cerrojo
del crepúsculo maniatado.

Los estudios sobre la mesa,
los ojos en el acicate
del firmamento, en los volcados
cristales de la geometría,
mientras la sangre intestinal
del hombre muerto a culatazos
bajaba por los escalones
chupada por verdes enjambres
de moscas que centelleaban.

Cerró el Paraguay como un nido
de su majestad, amarró
tortura y barro a las fronteras.
Cuando en las calles su silueta
pasa, los indios se colocan
con la mirada hacia los muros:
su sombra resbala dejando
dos paredes de escalofríos.

Cuando la muerte llega a ver
al doctor Francia está mudo,
inmóvil, atado en sí mismo,
solo en su cueva, detenido
por las sogas de la. parálisis,
y muere solo, sin que nadie
entre en la cámara: nadie se atreve
a tocar la puerta del amo.

Y amarrado por sus serpientes,
deslenguado, hervido en su médula,
agoniza y muere perdido
en la soledad del palacio,
mientras la noche establecida
como una cátedra, devora
los capiteles miserables
salpicados por el martirio.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

El Doctor Francia




Dr. José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia y Velasco (January 6, 1766 – September 20, 1840) was the first leader of Paraguay following its independence from Spain. He ran the country with no outside interference and little outside influence from 1814 to 1840.

Born in Yaguarón, he became a doctor of theology and trained for the Catholic priesthood but never entered it. When Paraguay's independence was declared in 1811, he was appointed secretary to the national junta or congress. He was one of the few men in the country with any significant education, and soon became the country's real leader.

In 1814, a congress named him Consul of Paraguay, with absolute powers for three years. At the end of that term, he sought and received absolute control over the country for life. For the next 26 years, he ran the country with the aid of only three other people. He aimed to found a society on the principles of Rousseau's Social Contract and was also inspired by Robespierre and Napoleon. To create such a personal utopia he imposed a ruthless isolation upon Paraguay, interdicting all external trade, while at the same time he fostered national industries. He became known as a caudillo who ruled through ruthless suppression and random terror with increasing signs of madness, and was known as "El Supremo".

He outlawed all opposition and abolished higher education (while expanding the school system), newspapers and the postal service. He abolished the Inquisition and established a secret police force. He had abolished higher education because he saw the need to spend more money in the military in order to defend Paraguayan independence from those that did not recognize it such as Argentina.

..........

Francia later seized the possessions of the Roman Catholic Church, nationalizing the land as communal farms which proved successful. He appointed himself head of the Paraguayan church, for which the Pope excommunicated him.

He made marriage subject to high taxation and restrictions, insisting he personally conduct all weddings. To reduce the influence of the Spanish gentry, he forbade them to marry among themselves.


Quotes:

"The best saints to guard the borders with are cannons."

Note: When the commander of a new fortress asked for permission to put it under the patronage of a saint.


* "Para guardar las fronteras, los mejores santos son los cañones."
o Nota: Cuando el comandante de una nueva fortaleza le pidió permiso para ponerla bajo la advocación de un santo.



"If someone walking on the street stops and looks at my house's facade, fire on him. And you if you miss shoot again and if you still miss your mark, I'm sure my pistol will not err."

Note: To a centry that let a woman peer through window at the furniture inside one of the rooms of the Dictator's Palace.

* "Si alguno de los que pasen por la calle se detuviere, fijándose en la fachada de mi casa, haz fuego sobre él; si lo yerras, haz otro tiro, y si todavía lo yerras, ten por seguro que mi pistola no ha de errarte."
o Nota: A un centinela que había tolerado a una mujer que mirase por una ventana los muebles de una de las habitaciones de Palacio.



"If the pope were to come to Paraguay, maybe I'll name him my chaplain but he's better off in Rome and me in Asuncion."


* "Si el Papa viniera al Paraguay, puede ser que le nombrara mi capellán, pero bien se está él en Roma y yo en La Asunción."


(Wikipedia)

Friday, October 12, 2007

Segunda Sombra




Segunda Sombra

Pasado el crepúsculo camino a noche

El orbe gira en su compás

Y hiela el frío de los astros


Primera noche de oscuridad

Y arrasada estrella,

Cuévano del espacio

y tumba de los años luz.


Término de toda órbita

Detrás del común mirar

Del que huye la materia

En estrepitosa carrera

Para acabar absorbida,

en la manga de la noche.


Sol mortecina,

Apagada mechera

El fuego solar derretido en

Partículas elementales

Que atraviesan el tiempo.


Si mañana hubiera acaso

Otro gallo cantaría

Mas por falta del pajarraco y su día

sólo hay mudos astros

Que callan su secreto:

El enigma de lo pesado.


Pesada la vida que se pasa en silencio

El silencio que mide el tiempo y su pesar

El peso es centro

De dónde dista cuerpo y tomo.

Es la forma de las sombras,

Huellas de luz

Que hurtan

Y no perdonan

Monday, October 08, 2007

Un nuevo poema






Primera sombra

Sombra de sauce,

De trébol y de pez,

rastros de vida que se notan

Tras el llorar y obrar.

Hay chispas de tinieblas.

Que navegan sin cesar

Por los surcos del mar nocturno.


Negra sombra y plaga del ver,

Sombra que ocultas y no revelas,

¿Cuál será la muerte que encubres

En el silencio de las horas?


Cuando el día se retira en tinieblas

Y las sombras crecen.

Vuelta del trabajo

Camino lento

El sol a las espaldas

Que se mengua cual la luna

En un lecho de fuegos artificiales


Senderos de nácar bajo un sol que muere

De hito en hito los rayos se deluyen

De blanco claro en púrpura fúnebre.


Allá lo encierran en un cajón de plata y carmesí

Para nunca más volver.

Nunca más volver . . . . .

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Góngora and the origin of The Solitudes (Las Soledades)




In 1593 Luis de Góngora was a deacon at the Cathedral of his native Córdoba. Although he had previously been censured for writing profanes lyrics and poetry the archbishop continued to send him to other dioceses at his own behest. During one of these trips to his alma mater Salamanca he suffered a seizure or stroke and slipped into a coma. His experience during this illness would mark the beginning of his mysterious, long poem The Solitudes. These are two sonnets he wrote after his recovery:


About an ill wayfarer who fell in love in the place where he stopped to rest.

A lost and sickly pilgrim
In the midst of a dark night with stumbling gait
Crossed the confusion of the desert
and with uneven steps he called out in vain.

He heard the repeated barking
Of an awakened but faraway dog
And found charity, if not the way home,
in a shepherd’s badly roofed shelter

The sun came out
And hidden among mink furs
The sleeping beauty startled
The ill wayfarer with sweet rage.

He will pay for such hospitality with his life
And it would be better for him to wander the mountains
Than perish the way I do now.

(1594)



DE UN CAMINANTE ENFERMO QUE SE ENAMORÓ DONDE FUE HOSPEDADO

Descaminado, enfermo, peregrino
En tenebrosa noche, con pie incierto
La confusión pisando del desierto,
Voces en vano dio, pasos sin tino. Repetido latir, si no vecino,
Distincto oyó de can siempre despierto,
Y en pastoral albergue mal cubierto
Piedad halló, si no halló camino.
Salió el sol, y entre armiños escondida,
Soñolienta beldad con dulce saña
Salteó al no bien sano pasajero.
Pagará el hospedaje con la vida;
Más le valiera errar en la montaña,
Que morir de la suerte que yo muero.



This sonnet has several illusions which must be explained. The Torme is the river that runs through Salamanca. And Lazarillo de Tormes was a character from the precursor of all Picaresque Novels. The boy Lazarillo has various masters after the demise of his parents. The first of which is a blind beggar. In Spanish lazarillo- 'means a guide for the blind' This master of his was very cruel to the boy so he took revenge on him before leaving his service. Lazarillo is also a variation of the name Lazaro the Spanish form of Lazarus, Jesus' friend whom He brought back to life.




The river Tormes had me for dead near its shores
In a deep catatonic slumber
When Golden Sir Apollo
Thrice released his horses

My resurrection was a miracle
Like Lazarus’ return to the world
So I am already reckoned as Castile’s second
Lazarillo de Tormes.

I entered the service of a blind man
My soul held lifeless in a sweet fire
That’ll reduce me to ashes.

How fortunate I would be then
If I imitated Lazarillo one day
In the revenge he took on the blind beggar!

(1593-4)




Muerto me lloró el Tormes en su orilla,
En un parasismal sueño profundo,
En cuanto don Apolo el rubicundo
Tres veces sus caballos desensilla.
Fue mi resurrección la maravilla
Que de Lázaro fue la vuelta al mundo,
De suerte que ya soy otro segundo
Lazarillo de Tormes en Castilla.
Entré a servir a un ciego, que me envía,
Sin alma vivo, y en un dulce fuego,
Que ceniza hará la vida mía.
¡Oh qué dichoso que sería yo luego,
Si a Lazarillo le imitase un día
En la venganza que tomó del ciego!

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

D. Luis de Góngora y Argote (Córdoba, 1561 - Madrid, 1627)





Sonnet

I have seen strange things, my Celalba,

clouds breaking open, winds running wild

High towers brought down to their foundations

And the earth vomit up its depths.

Strong bridges breaking like weak straws

Great streams, violent rivers

Not forded enough by thought

And worse detained by mountains.

Noah’s people, atop high pines

I saw shepherds, dogs, huts, and cattle

in the water lifeless and without form

And I feared nothing but my own thoughts.



Soneto.

Cosas, Celalba mía, he visto extrañas:

cascarse nubes, desbocarse vientos,

altas torres besar sus fundamentos

y vomitar la tierra sus entrañas;

duras puentes romper, cual tiernas cañas,

arroyos prodigiosos, ríos violentos,

mal vadeados de los pensamientos

y enfrenados peor de las montañas;

los días de Noé, gentes subidas

en los más altos pinos levantados,

en las robustas hayas más crecidas.

Pastores, perros, chozas y ganados

sobre las aguas vi, sin forma y vidas,

y nada temí más que mis cuidados.

Friday, September 28, 2007