The last several weeks have been preternaturally warm, considering. It’s been in the mid to high 40’s (F) the last week or so. Plenty of rain, but that temperature range could be summer here.
This tree was trying to hide behind the broken, decaying body of its deceased elder.
[daily log: walking, 2km]
Month: December 2019
Caveat: hay montes
Penas (Verso XXXIV) ¡Penas! ¿Quién osa decir Que tengo yo penas? Luego, Después del rayo, y del fuego, Tendré tiempo de sufrir. Yo sé de un pesar profundo Entre las penas sin nombres: ¡La esclavitud de los hombres Es la gran pena del mundo! Hay montes, y hay que subir Los montes altos; ¡después Veremos, alma, quién es Quien te me ha puesto al morir! - Jose Marti (poeta cubano, 1853-1895)
This poem was recently brought to my attention because my friend Bob asked if I could provide some insight and translation for the poem, for a choral production he’s working on that includes this text set to music. It seems not that different from other things I’ve blogged, and given how sparse my blog has been intellectually, of late, I thought I might as well post what I gave him here.
It’s important to separate who Martí actually was from the mythical being he’s been made into by subsequent generations of Cubans of all political stripes. He was a classical liberal, and in an aesthetic school called “modernismo” -not exactly the same as “modernism” because of different circumstances. He spent a lot of time in the US during various exiles from Cuba, and was heavily influenced by US poets such as Walt Whitman. He was no communist, but he was aware of Marx and I believe may have interacted some with socialists and communists and anarchists in Europe – you take your allies where you can find them. He did believe in universal human rights as that doctrine emerged from the wake of the abolition movements of the 19th century.
I do believe this poem is political. He was fighting for Cuban independence from Spain, inspired by the liberal fantasies (ideals) exemplified to whatever degree of accuracy by the US, Mexico, Guatemala – all countries where he spent time. So what he’s saying is that the time for self-pity is over. Stop complaining and get up and fight for your freedom, fellow Cubans = fellow humans everywhere. That’s how I interpret it. There are mountains we should be climbing, now, battles to be fought. We’ll let God sort out later who was good and who was bad.
Versos was published in 1891, and Martí died while leading Cuban freedom fighters in Cuba in 1895. His political program was quite mature at that point, and it would be hard to read the poem any more innocently.
Here is my own word-for-word translation.
Problems! Who dares to say That I have problems? Later, after the lightning-bolt, and the fire, I'll have time to suffer. I know about a deep regret among the problems without names: The enslavement of men is the great regret of the world! There are mountains, and there's need to climb the high mountains; later we shall see, soul, who [it] is that has set you, for me, to die.
The key word, of course, is penas. I prefer the translation “problems” – it feels contemporarily idiomatic. Penas has a very wide semantic field: “pains” “sufferings” “sorrows” “guilt” “sins” “problems” etc. Especially in the context.
We deploy the word “problems” in modern English similarly. Cf rapper Jay-Z, “I got 99 problems ….”
I almost chose to translate it as “complaints” – to emphasize the fact that the tone of the poem (to me) is a bit of “Get off your butts, people, and DO something!”
Other vocabulary worth comment: pesar. Also fairly wide. I prefer “weight” to “regret” but that doesn’t work with the intensifier “deep”. Perhaps “heavy weight” rather than “deep regret.”
As a syntactician, I love the double (in)direct objects in the last line (“… te me …”) – what Spanish grammar is famous for, in stumping linguists and being a fairly famous example of something characteristically difficult about the language.
Caveat: Poem #1248 “Consider it conveyed”
There exists a certain man. He's alone. He's got his phone. So he can convey his lack of a plan.
Caveat: Tree #362
Caveat: the point is annihilation
“The point of modern propaganda isn’t only to misinform or push an agenda. It is to exhaust your critical thinking, to annihilate truth.” – Garry Kasparov
Caveat: 2019
I continued living in Rockpit, Alaska.
[This entry is part of a timeline I am making using this blog. I am writing a single entry for each year of my life, which when viewed together in order will provide a sort of timeline. This entry wasn’t written in 2018 – it was written in the future.]
Caveat: Poem #1247 “The cause”
The problems are cultural. What we know... our mind's cargo, the social... epistemological.
Caveat: Tree #361
Behold, another tree was there to be seen.
I will make the observation that when the power goes out (not uncommon in this corner of Alaska), I take more walks. So hopefully once a day.
[daily log: walking, 4km]
Caveat: Poem #1246 “Living”
Really I'm just the pale frame of my bones, animate stones, barely tame, tumbling through life, all aflame.
Caveat: Tree #360
Caveat: Poem #1245 “The substantial night”
the night becomes a substance among trees with the rain, no resistance can face such fierce persistence
Caveat: Tree #359
This tree is in front of Mike and Penny’s house down the road at 9.4 mile.
[daily log: walking, 3km]
Caveat: Poem #1244 “A vague hypothetical”
So I sat and had coffee this morning, just wondering if I'd see fallen snow on this day's tree.
Caveat: Tree #358
Caveat: Poem #1243 “The precipitate apotheosis”
Rain and wind (and wind and rain) celebrate and make a great sound, and feign a knowing spirit's made plain.
Caveat: Tree #357
I walked over to Mike and Penny’s for Xmas dinner. They are my closest neighbors, about 3/4 of a mile down the road. They have been generous and kind to Arthur over the years and to me since my arrival here.
I saw this tree in their living room. It is fake. But very Christmassy.
Earlier I made cookies to take and share with them.
Arthur is down in California with Juli, Keith, Jenna, Braden – for Christmas – as I was last year.
Juli sent me this picture. Arthur is a “snowbird” – a retiree who goes somewhere warm in the winter.
[daily log: walking, 4km]
Caveat: Poem #1242 “Holiday cheer by the hour”
Christmas was always a hard time for me. Memories scarred: nothing's free, Except sitting by the sea.
Caveat: Tree #356
Caveat: Poem #1241 “One syllable, or two?”
I tried using the word "poem" in a poem (my words bestow, embrace, roam) but failed, that word found no home.
Caveat: Tree #355
I saw this tree in town when I went to shop. It was actually raining really hard, but you can’t really see the rain.
Sunset at 3:20.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
Caveat: Poem #1240 “Try to think tao”
I sat down to listen, now, to the rain: its hard campaign to allow my stupid brain to think tao.
Caveat: Tree #354
Caveat: Poem #1239 “Uncooperative combustion”
Some days I decide a fire should be made. The sticks arrayed, stacked, admired... But the flame frays, the wood's tired.
Caveat: Tree #353
Caveat: Poem #1238 “Expelled”
Caveat: Tree #352
This picture is from the last time we went out in the boat – more than a month ago. I like the cabin (or float-house?) stranded on the beach at a weird angle. The tree is just supervising.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
Caveat: Poem #1237 “Generalities”
Caveat: Tree #351
A tree for December.
Last night I went to Jeri and Karl’s for dinner. They’re down the road a ways further, around 10 mile. They are retirees, Arthur’s age. The have cats and black labrador. I enjoy the pets. I probably talked too much.
[daily log: walking, 3km]