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was 1981 when Andrew Trapiello, ruling the adventure of the journal Number , excellence in design and typography, and the literary quality of texts, we approached there and rarities niceties.
In found an extraordinary number sonnet Francesco de Sanctis group called "Dolce stil novo." An anonymous sonnet from the late thirteenth or early trecento. But grace does not only came from the Italian text, which later, in Francesco Trucchi, Poesie italiane dugento inedito di autore , Prato, 1847 - Nina attributed to the Sicilian, but its first translation into Castilian, the writer Roman School of the Pyrenees, Rafael Sanchez Mazas.
I memorized and recited, then, some of my friends from the magazine, then took out here in Sagunto, Beads. My friend, today regrettably absent, Francisco Salinas, liked this piece and also share readings Rhymes Guido Cavalcanti translated into Castilian by Juan Ramon Masoliver. Rafael Sánchez Mazas
was not only a great prose writer, but also a considerable poet. His verses were sparsely published in several magazines, but gave the issue a book of poems in 1944, with the title for fifteen sonnets Fifteen sculptures of Moses Huerta.
would have to spend time for your voice to be recovered and valued. In 1971, the flagship library of the editorial Ocnos Catalan Llibres the Sinera. That collection, directed by Joaquín Marco, and which were part of his writing, Jaime Gil de Viedma, Pere Gimferrer, José Agustín Goytisolo, Luis Izquierdo and Manuel Vázquez Montalbán, had the courage and wisdom of good together in one volume a significant group of poetic production of our author.
Alongside the work of his sack, also her work Trujamán. In addition to his translation of "a Sparviero Tapin ch'amava me, offered their versions of" Sonnet of the Florentine May "by Folgore da San Gimignano, and" Hereux qui fait comme Ulysse to a beau voyage "of Joachim of Bellay.
Enjoy the good work of Sanchez Mazas and Italian love affliction:

Tapin Ahimaaz ch'amava a sparvero:
amaval both ch'io me ne moria;
to ben M'era richiamo Manero, e dunque
Pasco nol troppo Dovi.

Or is mounted and went so lofty, much higher than
do not Solia
and is seated inside a Verzeri:
another woman at the mercy of the chains.

Isparvero mine, I brought up t'avea,
golden bell
bring you face because UC (c) ellar was bolder:

or if 'just as the sea rose, and
' broken Getae and if they 'fled
when you were still in your uc (c) ellare.

¡Pobre de mí, que a AMAB alcotán!

¡Lo que yo me so AMAB blight!

¡A mi que bien complaint was galán,

but not much bait you put!

Now very haughty shall see, much higher

not previously used.

rests in a garden of his desire,

and another lady has it in tyranny.

Oh my hawk! I was nurtured I

and golden bell given,

because there is more joy in your flight!

And now as the sea will have you raised me

and has broken ties and has fled

when you were so faithful to my lure.

From the poetic works of Sánchez Mazas would rescue this sonnet:

on the tombstone of my Uncle LABRADOR

He vineyard and olive tree in the plain real poplars planted

by the river

rocky mount was brave

estates and became thick.

the house had a smooth height:

was tower, solar and hamlet,

comforted reading books

and oil and wine harvest farmland.

was the peace of Christ and simple gentleman

lonely beggar;

all had a "God save you" -

had no car or horse saddle

and in old age , returning from the threshing

rode a donkey in the afternoon.

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embers

As much as he wanted, he could not raise his voice and his cry was drowned. Such was the silence that afforded him the vision of the abyss, that which is imposed at that old photograph which he kept since childhood. The crushed between your hands to perform later that act thirty-three years ago he stopped to complete, by rescuing from a number of appliances that burned on a pyre made his father in the yard, that image is now included in the fatal spread of terror. Burned that image not only driven by his anger but by the desire to erase forever the mark of evil. He, the true rescuer of the report, the scrutineer persistent and conscientious desk barbarism, was now become a mere vermin, caught in the horror intimate and instinctively decided to suppress the truth, hide the evidence. But the evidence, then I understand it also, fatally, can not be erased and even less who was the architect of them return.

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MEMORY AND ABEL MARTIN Juan de Mairena: FOOTPRINT IN VALENCIA

(Gaya Bullet on A. Machado, published in Time in Spain )

On January 1937, in the pages of the first issue of the legendary magazine, Spain time, it was published in Valencia, under the title "Tips, judgments and humours of Juan de Mairena and his teacher Martin Abel, a group of non-fiction pieces that are a good example four collect later.

appeared alongside them, in the magazine texts María Zambrano, José Bergamin, Juan Gil-Albert, and Rafael Dieste, among others. They show us the ideas of "complementary" to Machado, the silence, war, brotherhood, and doubt.

Machado He was, at that time, stayed with his family at the villa "Villa Amparo" in the Valencian village of Roca, where he wrote poems, along with other texts of various types, which would be fine offering magazines and the newspaper press, or publicly exposing vindictive acts, and even getting them to publish the book War, Machado last book he published in his lifetime.

MARTIN ABEL / Juan de Mairena

I
Only in the silence, which is, as my teacher, the noise of nothingness, the poet can fully enjoy the great gift to him by the deity, to be singer, who discovered a world of harmonies. So the poet flees and abhors all such gibberish talking machines that are needed to seize the little silence that we still have.

II Learn to doubt, son, and end up doubting in your own doubt. Thus God rewards the faithful skeptical and confused.

III
When Christ returns, "said my master, preached to the humble pride, like yesterday preached humility to the powerful. And his words will be approximately the same: "Remember that your father is in heaven, so high is your rank on the father. On earth there is only for you and fraternal duties, independent of ties of blood. License once and for all the biblical human stallion. "

IV

When men come to guns, the rhetoric has completed its mission. Because it is not to convince, but to win and bring down the opponent. However, there is no war without rhetoric. And the warlike rhetoric characteristic of it is to be the same for the two belligerents, as if both agree in the same reasons and had reached an agreement on the same truths. Hence my teacher deduced the irrationality of war, on the one hand, and rhetoric, on the other.

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ANDRÉS MACHADO SANTALLANA: ALL LOOK IS AN ACT OF FAITH

There is an apocryphal

poet with the same surname Santayana, born in Madrid, although thirty-six years younger and the name of Andrew, who has left us an extraordinary poem, collected by Antonio Machado in his Cancionero apocryphal. It recalls not only her surname to the philosopher Santayana Geoge but this breeze of mystery and reflexivity:

THE MIRACLE

In Segovia, an afternoon, touring the mall
the Eresma bathing,
to read my Bible
I reached for the glasses case
in search of the scaffolding of my eyes, my flying balcony
eyes.
I opened the case with the gesture and doctoral
firm who says: Wait,
and now I see ...
see if I opened the case but inside, nothing
point de lunettes ... fled?
swear that something flashed when I opened the black top

tiny pocket coffin, and flying,
escape from confinement, a butterfly glass
my glasses.
The book under his arm, orphanhood
my eyes wandered
thinking up things that we laugh
dead at home have their double
where
should be or is an act of faith every glance.

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George Santayana: CONSIDERATIONS A SKEPTIC ON RELIGION

The year was 1932 when Santayana leaves the city of Rome, its "whitewashed cell in a convent located at the foot of the Aventine, opposite the ruins of the Palatine, which is to be beyond the history, "described the room as Maria Zambrano, and goes to The Hague to give the Domus Spnoziana a conference titled" Religion last ", to commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of the birth of Baruch Spinoza.

The text of the lecture was published the following year in the Septimana Spinoza, and that same year, 1933, will translate Antonio Marichalar and published in the Revista de Occidente . In the preface to the translation accompanying Marichalar collected some verses of Alfred Kreimborg describing our philosopher

A

skeptical soul inside a chest

fervent testimony provides unbiased

the fray of gods

bring here an extraordinary and significant piece of that conference, which demonstrates his mastery not only argumentative, bringing a meditative and reflective thread tension, but permeates the concepts of extraordinary plasticity and vividness:

"Where is our will that commands, and it seems that without knowing us how, not only our body but obdece the world, we are like Joshua watching the sun stop at his command. However, when we give orders and nothing happens however, we are like King Canute, stunned by the rising tide that does not comply. But when we have done a great work and to have channeled again the course of history, we are like Cantaclaro, which gives his singing the presence of the aurora.

And what is the result? That for a mere act of conscience honestly, does the spirit immediately, and suddenly, one of the most radical religious perceptions important. He realizes that, though she is living, is unable to live, they still can die is unable to die, and that, in short, is, at every moment and every event, in the hands of an alien power and impenetrable.

And that's all I know of this power, respect. For now, only for me, the counterpart of my impotence. From the moment I have no way of knowing how far that power, I would not call it powerful, but do not hesitate to call it, coining a word. "Omnificiente" as is, for me, by definition, the maker of everything done.

not hold the physical validity of this sense of cause or agency: I simply feel what is of strong, well, hostile, or impenetrable in the world. Revealed only an impression, and perhaps lack enough of this to my ever-present sense of power can be erected in a theological theory of the omnipotence of God. But the moral presence of power man comes over the night, while in the desert, when found, as the Arabs say, only Allah also reappears in all acute predicament, in extreme situations, in the act of a child born in the face of death. With respect to the unit this power, I will not find it in its various manifestations, but rather in my own solitude, in the unity of this spirit of suffering, beset by all these accidents. My fate is lonely, lonely tágicamente, no matter how diverse their causes. Stunned, as I am, I am not required to, but had penetrated the inner engrnaje things omnificiente explain whether that power is simple or complex, continuous or spasmodic, intentional or blind. I am against him simply receptive attitude, the same way as if I were in Rome before the great fountain of Trevi What I see there? I see streams and waterfalls flow into separate jets in different directions. I'm not certain that it Pontifex Maximus one who has drawn entirely by channeling those waters for such precise melodic channels. More of a stream will have withered since its creation, or strayed. Fresh rain from heaven they could, today, may add new streams. Who's behind those known if there is not some fake rocks hidden genie misrepresents the waters play. And how do you know the wealth of detail that, in my imagination, have displaced or have been multiplied by an optical effect only? And yet, there espítitu here for an overall impression and wonderful: the sound of a force that is facing me in an admirable and theatrical spectacle. "

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George Santayana and Jorge Guillen

By 1947 George Santayana undertook the task of translating one tenth of Jorge Guillén, belonging to the Song poems. It made several versions until they finally sent the author the definitive Valladolid in July 1950, at Wesley College in Massachusetts, where he then taught teaching. This version will which collect the manuscript volume Posthumous Poems and published in the posthumous volume The Poet's Testament (1953) Here
Guillén's poem, followed by the translation of George Santayana:



PUCKS remains the trot here,
Enter your start and my hand. Well, is well tight

His intention to be far away.
Cause I'm on a horse
A true wonder:
Still with all vigor.
And by how much I have in bronze
quiet all the soul,
Clara in the cold sky! EQUESTRIAN STATUE




Suspended Motion stays here Twixt
ITS Starting and my hand. Tightly braced

the peace stand far Well Planned for a career.
For I ride a courser bent On a Marvelous
intent:
moving Never, ever bold.
Oh, by whatcalm Strength of will
Lives in my whole soul bronze
Clearer still in the ethereal cold!


Jorge Guillén visit in 1951 to George Santayana in Rome, then held-from late 1941-in a room at the Clinica della Piccola Compagna di Maria, the Sisters care for Irish Blue (Blue Nuns ). From this meeting it is reported by a letter to Pedro Salinas and the statements he made to Juan Guerrero and is reflected in an article published in Insula in 1952.

On this visit, Guillen thanked him for his translation of the poem into English and he expresses his desire to translate some of his own into Castilian. Although not decided by any one in particular, will, finally, the "Sonnet L", 1895, collected in Poems (1923), who choose Guillén, published with the poem translated by Santayana in The Journal of Philosophy in 1964, commemorating the centenary of the birth of "Old Philosopher," as Wallace Stevens called his friend in a famous poem. Here is the sonnet
Santayana and translation que de él hizo Jorge Guillén:

SONNET L

Though utter death should swallow up my hope
And choke whith dust the mouth of my desire.
Though no dawn burst, and no aurorean choir
Sing GLORIA DEO when the heavens ope.

Yet have I light of love, nor need to grope

Lost, wholly lost, without and inward fire;

The flame that quickeneth the world entire

Leaps in my breast, with cruel death to cope.

Hath not the night-environed earth her flowers?

Hath not my grief the blessed joy of thee?

Is not tne comfort of these singing hours.

Full of thy perfectnees, enough for me?

They Are Not Evil, Then, Those hidden Powers: One love sufficeth

an eternity

SONNET L

In memory of Jorge Ruiz de Santayana .

Although absolute death swallow my hope

and dusty mouth to stifle my desire,

Although no tipping and no dawn chorus

Tone DEO GLORIA when the sky opens

I have a light of love, I'm not groping and

Completely lost without a fire inside.

The flame that inspired the entire human space jumps Covers

my chest, facing death.

dont have the night of the earth the flowers?

My grief does not have you joy?

Is not it enough for me great comfort

Of these hours so perfect for you, sing?

are bad then no hidden powers,

That just one love for eternity.