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the poetry of George Santayana Divagante

"Of course, if you do not feel the poetry of things, we can not discern in a verbal reflection of it captured by a poet, but I am a real poet to feel that poetry, and Good critics are not critical if we ignore this circumstance. "This is George Santayana said, or what is the same, Jorge Ruiz de Santayana, that" mystical Castilian, "as he called Antonio Marichalar in Revista de Occidente ( 1924), born in 1863 in Madrid. I said in the written pages of his mind Apologia pro sua (1940), in response to criticism of his poems by Rice faculty and Hogwate.

The philosopher Santayana

admitted that he had left, then, poetry: "Why I left? I would say I had the impression, as have many other recent poets, "that what I had to say, could be said better without the traditional poetic form, that is, in prose, because I did not think the invencón typographical resources to turn prose into poetry."

The traditional verse was revealed as inadequate or inappropriate manner where focus its intuitions, their ideas. As well says Santayana, the treatment of prose and poetry or the blurring of its precise limits, was something that fecuentaron poets: "In fact, except when the meter is still an instinctive thing as good manners, a new graphic phrase, an original metaphor deep slide in a more easy and free liqud prose that through the mesh of the verse. "Prose liquid , beautiful image that clearly expresses the gender of some of its pages.

But despite what is said in the letter of 1940, Santayana did not fail to return to the poems, as evidenced by the unpublished poems collected in William G. Holzberg edition of The Complete Poems of George Santayana (1979) . Poetry, not just poetic imagination or intuition , what we might call "poetic", we see appear in his writings, in his essays, was a constant in his life. Indeed his first book was Sonnets and Other Verses (1894), which would other issues as well as new books and anthologies, to his last book, and published posthumously, The Poet's Testament: Poems and Two Plays (1953).

Sonnet III of his first poetry book was the first poem he wrote, with eighteen years, and, as said in an interview in Rome, before dying, was made from a passage from Euripides' The Bacchae . He says his first trio:

"Our expertise is a steaming tea

pine that lights the way only a step

through a void of mystery and horror"

This translation is the performed by the teacher at the University of Valladolid, Estébanez Cayetano, in his edition of an anthology of poems by Santayana, who edited the Museu Valencià Il · lustració i la Modernity (MUVIM), in the tribute that the institution, with Roman Street in charge of it, he was taxed with an International Congress in late 2009.

Until now we had the translation of seventeen poems by Ceferino Santos, published in the journal Humanities (1964), and the largest of José María Alonso Gamo, A English in the world. Santayana, poetry and poetic (1964). These two, therefore we conclude that now provides us with an anthology of Estébanez Cayetano, George Santayana. Materials for a utopia. Poeas anthology of poetry and two texts (2009).

Select two poems that I think a good example of his poetic task:

CAPE COD
The low and sandy beach, scrub and pine,
long bay and skyline -
Oh, I am far from home!

salt, the smell of salt sea air thick, and round stones
wearing tides -
When will the good ship?

Outrageous stumps, burned and blackened,
and turn soft rut of a wagon, -
Why is the world so old?

The sound of the waves and sky, broad and Gray,
where crows fly and slow seagull -
Where are the countless dead?

Bent willows beside the marsh, the large hull
stranded and floating log
began life with the pain!

and between dark pines and the flat edge -
Oh, the wind and the wind, forever!
What is man?




THE WILL OF THE POET

I return to the earth what the earth gave me,
all goes to the furrow, nothing to the grave.
has been consumed and the candle wick spirit
sight can not go where it was the vision.

I just let the sound of many words after hearing random
mocking echoes. I sang
to heaven. The exile made me free,
taking me from world to world, from all worlds. Librado

by the Furies and the kind fates, the firm stepped
cloisters of the mind.
Every time, my present, all space, my place,
neither fear nor hope, nor envy saw my face.

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of scholarship (I): Alfonso Reyes and the Arab FRANCISCO ELBOW AND ZAIDÍN.

These days I have been reviewing various reading lesson from the Mexican master Alfonso Reyes, a delight in prose and varied quantity of information that amazing, teaches and encourages us to digress and study. I would like to stop at one of his first books, the real and imaginary Portraits, published in Mexico, selected Reading in 1920. They are a group of fourteen articles published in Spain that he sends to his countrymen.

"Random of events and books, I have published in the Madrid press notes, some sketches, reviews, excerpts of readings and comments, I wish I had written with simplicity," says in the Introduction, in that leaves derived from the Mexican political wiles of the time: "Keep together. Bring out your reasons for friendship similarities. Tomorrow we will fall into the hands of time. object, a dark force, the wall as of wills. "worrisome times ran from the Mexican Revolution, leading to movement of Agua Prieta, Sonora, and Huerta rebellion.

Alfonso Reyes was in Madrid in October 1914, in a period of exile that would last a decade gives, after being dismissed from the Mexican diplomatic corps in Paris by the government of Venustiano Carranza. This new stage in his life would be of great significance in his career. Here collaborate with Menendez Pidal Center Historical Studies, carried out extensive creative work, research, advertising, translator, which will bear fruit in newspaper articles or essay (In Spain , Ortega's initiative, Sun the Bulletin of the Royal English Academy , the Journal of Philology , Index ), editions of the classics of English literature (Góngora, Gracian Ruiz de Alarcón, Archpriest of Hita, Quevedo, Lope or Fray Servando Teresa de Mier), will offer its prose version of the Poema de Mio Cid , edit their books Madrid cartons, The suicide and Vision Anahuac , published his translations of Orthodoxy, Chesterton and Sentimental Journey through France and Italy of Laurence Sterne, participating very actively in social life and lteraria, as is the curious case of brotherhood The Toledo Window, or the Historical Commission, Francisco del Paso y Troncoso .

Well, it is in this context in which to write and edit these brief flashes of writing and erudión of creative scholarship, sparkling divagational. We will see in its pages a vital presence to acquire a wide range of characters: Madama Lucrezia, the last love of Alfonso the Magnanimous, Cisneros, Luther, Nebrija, Chateaubriand, Fray Servando Teresa de Mier, Apollonius of Tyre, Rodrigo Calderon, Baltasar Gracian, etc. .


From the data, Reyes joins the frame of the toy scholar, giving liveliness to the last cold. For example, from the documents provided San Román Francisco de Borja, in an article published in the Bulletin of the Royal Academy of History , December 1918, belonging to the File of Protocols of Toledo and it appears an inventory of the assets of the poet Garcilaso de la Vega:


"theatrically should imagine the old legal documents. Otherwise, luck is impossible to understand.

The scene is in Toledo, to January 3, 1537, Payo in studying Rodríguez, "Secretary publications." is seated at the table when it appears Dona Elena de Zúñiga, the widow of Garcilaso, in mourning habits and plays, the accompanying Pedro de Alcocer, his servant and attorney. Toledo gentlemen come back that will serve as witnesses. Elena starts to make an inventory of the assets of her late husband. The curtain falls.

And when it gets out of bed, and walk through the neighborhood of Santa Leocadia ... "


Thus Alfonso Reyes snippets about the life of Garcilaso the curious reader glibly managing information. So the story ends:


"I'll finish when I hear a laugh in the courtyard are Fatima and Mariquita (slaves in the service of Doña Elena) engaged in pulling a male adorned, to be passing by the window to see what Mr. Secretary audience. "

But vanga what I wanted to come, that is, the last portrait of Alfonso Reyes takes an admirable which resulted in the titanic task of Huesca Francisco Codera Zaidín Arabist, a disciple of Pascual Gayangos and, in turn, illustrious master Miguel Julián Ribera and Asin. Pertenece Francisco that first generation of so-called Silver Age of English culture, but it could be labeled Second Golden Age, these giants writers and scientists of the second half of the nineteenth century, they were able to create and maintain a cultural tradition of great fertile structure and content, amid the most adverse conditions:

" To his disciples, he composed an epitome of a hundred pages, for a man capable of synthesis, which is the masculine condition of intelligence. But when you are printing their books in Spain, remaining until typographic elements. For something has been Codera inventor and manual labor: lithographed he epitomized, he acquired a foundry Arabic, wrote the legends of his coins and was built a special press.

As a bibliophile, was once "a craftsman with skill and patience of Benedictine," Saavedra says, to rebuild the devencijados codices de El Escorial, which, thrown through the windows to save them from fire, were made about trouble reports piled leaves, almost at random. Codera "ordered the leaves by size, count the number of lines about each plan, measured the length and breadth of the writing, and with this information, formed a table methodically, with the help of which could be attributed to many codices leaves them belonged. "

knew and did much, but he practiced and taught to practice scientific doubt, avoiding any process of divination ...

, for selflessness and sacrifice, was able to overcome the scruples of the Muslims on the cross the treasures of their libraries, and could bring news of Africa than any other European scholars had reached ...

Imagine the old, dry and sober, making her toys on her desk scientists, soul and body electrified by the idea. As happened to Fray Juan de Segovia, death surprised him one day ... polishing a chalice and a Creed praying. "

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PASOLINI, A RABBI NERA DI POETRY READING NEL PETT

The title of this entry belongs to a verse of a poem by Pier Paolo Pasolini, "Frammento alla morte", belonging to the religion of poems mio tempo (1961). The interspersed as it is, in Italian, in a poem (truncated column) that appears at the beginning of my poems Landscape from sleep, I edited two years ago. They said I

Originating from the desolate landscape of the living, comes a voice

sullen light of puberty,

from rabbia di poesia nel petto .

Pasolini's work, his poetry has been, is, in my biography reader, something strangely need arises unexpectedly in my desire and every time I turn her, feel her destiny, her innate strength, pure, the vitality of its cry. I read and reread his poems as food, now mirrors, once tangled paths, always civil and human ways of saying and ask the city to make me more and more human.

in this blog I will give samples of my passion pasoliniana. Today I present a translation of his poem, "Supplice a mia madre" and add a special video which includes the reading of the poem did Pasolini himself. United voice to the images of his film "Mamma Roma."


APPEAL TO MY MOTHER

is difficult to say this in words of a child whose heart
who resembled me very little.

You are the one in the world who knows, my heart,
this has always been, before any other love.

why I say it is horrible to know:
is in your same grace that gives rise to my distress.

're irreplaceable. So is doomed to loneliness

life you gave me.

I do not want to be alone. I have an endless hunger for love, Love
soulless bodies.

For the soul is in you, you,
but you are my mother and your love is my slavery

slave children have spent this way
high irremediable, a huge commitment.

was the only way to feel life,
the only color, the only way: now it's over.

survived: it is the confusion of a life reborn
beyond reason.

I beg you, oh, I beg you: do not want to die.
I'm here alone with you in the future in April.

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Leo

Yesterday the period of my zodiac sign: Leo.

This period brought me many good things, and not that I do not give me bad things, the matter is that the bad things I see them as good, because I learn and correct it.

Many things to be thankful not really go into detail so as not to bore you with my stuff, but just know I'll miss this stage of my life. And entered another level, a series of spiritual healing, personal growth.

... and reminding me every day ... I'm still the Reyyyy!

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POEM OF THE SERPENT,

Reclining on a rock in the place of the hermitage of San Isidro, those rare earth yawns seeking heaven in Los Barruecos , there in Malpartida de Cáceres, we decided to rest awhile, after visiting the wool laundry today Vostell made by the artist in an art museum (their own and the Fluxus movement.) After attending the game and the tragedy of the adventure of visiting Vostell and ephemeral pond where we roamed, we decided to stop and eat something nearby, along with the leaves and bark of the eucalyptus toppings.
I opened a book I bought in the morning in Caceres, the prettiness of editorial is published in Villanueva de la Serena, I mean Littera issues. There has been to see the light reading poems of Rafael Argullol, Poem of the snake. All the work
This writer is imbued with the poetic, more beyond the line of writing verses, back to the rhythm of syllables. It is a cognitive poetry, gives us a reflective view, proposes a digression that haunts the thinking, the way of thinking, Heidegger would say.
Argullol still clad "old coat" he told his teacher, José María Valverde, in a poem he opened his first poetry collection, knowledge disturbances. Mantle and has been distilling liquor in successive contributions: Duel in the valley of death , The knife sharpener. With amphibious Tetralogy: The ETERN joc, began poetic work designed to be declaimed by actors on stage, in this case to a montage of La Fura del Baus, Naumaquia 1 created for the Forum Barcelona 2004.
Following this first meeting, he returned to work with the group La Fura, a show based on The Magic Flute by Mozart. His 24 poems were recited and projected on the intervals devoted to the part of the libretto. Apart from the spectacular
, music, publishing Littera approaches us the magic of the word Argullol, giving us a music steeped in the apostrophe, in the invitation to investigate, the proposal of nudity in a search of ourselves, our understanding and our desires. A subtle and heartfelt journey of the word hot. I rescue here
poem number 23 that made me think of the feeling, leaning on a rock, ecstatic look at the horses gently grazing in a pond in Los Barruecos, while a light breeze rustled through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees

We loved the fire and we

purified with holy water.
We danced around the campfire

to ask and we slipped
the river for answers.
Between river and fire has passed

our history of fear and hope.
uncertain ground in this fragile
we dug graves and designed
gods
have built and destroyed cities
with redoubled fury,
always with hope and fear,
formula of our soul.
But sometimes we fled the country
jailed for
borders leaving behind the sacrificial fire
and water spellcasting.

In this journey we shed the fear
and also
hope that engenders fear itself.
feel Then we stop the miserable
halfword

desperately looking for the other half
through graves, wars and gods,
of great ideas and brutal accomplishments.
Then we
palpable what we seek in secret caress
friend
loving smile,
the voice that envelops the world, music
body, infinity

resting gently in the abode of a happy day.
There are all
questions and all answers.

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Argullol RAFAEL FERNANDO, A GOOD MAN IN THE LAND OF ESTI

Land Extremadura, the spacious skies, was, in principle, the land of my wife and my family, and her trip after trip , has become as recognizable to me, so dear, now I can say that I belong to something and mine.
So far the trip to Extremadura, Tierra de Barros, Villafranca, had been with him as co-pilot, but now we were going there, your land, from which you came looking for a greater horizon for your family, with his ashes , in whose cemetery rest and go where it looked when we remember, at that hill and that wide wide sky.
days of mourning and memory, loss and hugs. Fernando Sánchez
returned permanently to their land and rests there today.

His daughter, Francisca Sanchez Pinilla, he composed the beautiful poem with his picture is already registered. Verses are the stuff of emotion pure, the most tender look at the father. Pick up in it, too, which his children, his wife and family, had for him:

After walking and retrace our steps

get here, to the noonday sun
tired ... Long was the way back. More
life drank every sip,
until all the smoke out of nowhere.

latter We can only spur ...
before looking at the clock again,
and embrace the blue of your eyes
the serene sea that you gave us one day.


Villafranca, August 10, 2010.

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"From yesterday to never" (Leopoldo Panero, every moment Written )

's up there single moon grows bigger

in the cold wind of the dusk,

and humid here blow me

announces the arrival port in the summer waters.

A brief condensation on the glass of time that dharma

herein outdoors.

do on the terraces of swifts agitated

accompany the dance of the sheets and clothes

extended as fleeting whispers of love.

go with them to port, looking for the lanterns.

The boats seen it coming.

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Magic

anyone believe in love at first sight?; The truth I did not believe until I met this beauty :

... I know, I know: How can you not love?

{thanks to GSM Arena to have the photos posted ... I avoided the hassle of taking them jejejeje}

But when I used it I fell in love, and like any beautiful relationship improves with time. Thanks to Anro and applications that can integrate this system, make the cell even more interesting. In truth, the one with the opportunity to buy any smartphone with Android, you should try. It's another level.

Blackberry, iPhone is overrated. I've always said, but nobody paid any attention, t Google enia come to show the world = p . Nokia "{my favorite brand?} Will have to wait a while before I go home. HTC and Google, dien the stick. No doubt. Here are the specs of the HTC Magic in case anyone is curious

I think I can rest assured of not having the Google Nexus One, because this baby if I'm going to have a fun time. For starters, I have Rooted, I installed Android v2.2, which adds greatly to the team, although he does not come to work but with Android v1.6, but I'm trying jejejeje

... and like I say: The cell phone I always dreamed of!