Two poets, one from Cuba, one from Spain, wrote at different times and in different styles, yet they are linked by history and the Spanish language. José Martí fought and died in the war for Cuban independence from Spain. Spain’s defeat in that war led to soul-searching among writers in Spain, and Antonio Machado emerged as one of its leading voices; he died during the Spanish Civil War.
Here are my translations of some of their works.
***
José Martí (Cuba, 1853 -1895) may be best-known, if unrecognized, for the words to the song “Guantanamera.” They come from Versos sencillos (Simple Verses), his last book of poetry, published in 1891. The first of the thirty-eight sets of verses begins: “Yo soy un hombre sincero…” (I am a sincere man…) The song was popularized by folk singers in the United States in the 1960s.
In the prologue of that book, he speaks of the “horror” of the domination of the Spanish Empire over Cuba. He had long been active in the nationalist cause. In 1882 he founded the Cuban Revolutionary Party while in exile in New York. The war of Cuban independence began on February 24, 1895, and Martí returned to Cuba in April. He was killed in the Battle of Dos Rios on May 19, 1895, and is now honored in Cuba as a hero.
He said: “Poetry must be rooted in the land and based on real events.” His Versos sencillos echo the style of popular songs and foresee the struggle of his beloved homeland. I have tried to translate them into lyrics that could be set to music.
José Martí, from Versos Sencillos (Simple Verses), 1891
XXIII
Yo quiero salir del mundo
Por la puerta natural:
En un carro de hojas verdes
A morir me han de llevar.
.
No me pongan en lo oscuro
A morir como un traidor;
Yo soy bueno, y como bueno
Moriré de cara al Sol!
.
I want to leave this world
By the gate into nature:
In a cart of green leaves
They must carry me home.
.
May they not let me die
As a traitor in darkness;
I am good, I am right
To die facing the Sun!
.
XXVII
El enemigo brutal
Nos pone fuego a la casa;
El sable la calle arrasa,
A la luna tropical.
.
The enemy brutes
Set our home ablaze;
In the street their swords raze,
Under tropical moon.
.
Pocos salieron ileso
Del sable del español;
La calle, al salir el sol,
Era un reguero de sesos.
.
To escape was in vain
From Spaniard and sword;
At sunrise the street poured
With shed blood and slashed brains
.
Pasa, entre balas, un coche:
Entran, llorando, a una muerta;
Llama una mano a la puerta
En lo negro de la noche.
.
A car evades bullets:
They strike as death wails;
A hand knocks at the doorway
In dark night as a threat.
.
No hay bala que no taladre
El portón; y la mujer
Que llama, me ha dado el ser;
Me viene a buscar mi madre.
.
Every bullet hits home;
The woman at that door
Gave me my life and more;
My mother to me comes.
.
A la boca de la muerte,
Los valientes habaneros
Se quitaron los sombreros
Ante la matrona fuerte.
.
At the call of the grave,
Havana’s valiant men
Remove their hats and bend
Before the matron most brave.
.
Y después que nos besamos
Como dos locos, me dijo:
“Vamos pronto, vamos, hijo;
La luna está sola: vamos.”
.
And after we greet
Both mad with love, she said:
“Let us go, son, ahead,
And the lonely moon meet.”
***
Antonio Machado (Spain, 1875 -1939) is the great poet of Spain’s “Generation of ’98.” Spain was defeated and humiliated in the Spanish-American War in 1898. A disparate group of writers rebelled against the moral, political, and social crisis by creating an intellectual regeneration and a modernization in literature.
Machado synthesized popular wisdom, essential questions of life, and philosophic contemplation in his poetry. His life was often marked with personal tragedy and frustration. He enthusiastically supported the Second Spanish Republic in 1931, but he was forced into exile when its government fell to Fascists in the Spanish Civil War. As he fled, his health deteriorated. He died just over the border in France in 1939. He is still an oft-quoted poet in Spain.
Antonio Machado, from Proverbios y cantares (Proverbs and Songs), 1917
Hoy es siempre todavía.
Today is ever forever.
–
¿Siglo nuevo? ¿Todavía
llamea la misma fragua?
¿Corre todavía el agua
por el cauce que tenía?
.
A new century? Does
the same forge still burn?
Does the water still churn
through its old riverbed?
–
¿Sabes, cuando el agua suena,
si es agua de cumbre o valle,
de plaza, jardín o huerta?
.
When you hear rain fall, do you know,
is it water from summit or valley,
plaza, garden or orchard?
–
Buena es el agua y la sed;
buena es la sombra y el sol;
la miel de flor de romero,
la miel de campo sin flor.
.
Good is water and thirst;
good is shade and sun;
honey from rosemary flower,
honey from flowerless fields.
–
¿Para qué llamar caminos
a los surcos del azar?…
Todo el camina anda
como Jesús, sobre el mar.
.
Why call roads
the paths made by destiny?…
All travelers go
like Jesus, over the sea.
Sue Burke 