"Niagara" by José María Heredia, translated by Thatcher Taylor Payne

Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Poem-a-Day is reader-supported. Your gift today will help the Academy of American Poets continue to publish the work of 260 poets each year, and share this series with 320,000 readers every day.
September 21, 2024 

Niagara

José María Heredia
translated from the Spanish by Thatcher Taylor Payne

My lyre! give me my lyre! my bosom feels 
The glow of inspiration. Oh how long 
Have I been left in darkness since this light 
Last visited my brow. Niagara! 
Thou with thy rushing waters dost restore 
The heavenly gift that sorrow took away. 

    Tremendous torrent! for an instant hush 
The terrors of thy voice and cast aside 
Those wide involving shadows, that my eyes 
May see the fearful beauty of thy face! 
I am not all unworthy of thy sight, 
For from my very boyhood have I loved, 
Shunning the meaner track of common minds, 
To look on nature in her loftier moods. 
At the fierce rushing of the hurricane, 
At the near bursting of the thunderbolt 
I have been touched with joy; and when the sea, 
Lashed by the wind, hath rocked my bark and showed 
Its yawning caves beneath me, I have loved 
Its dangers and the wrath of elements. 
But never yet the madness of the sea 
Hath moved me as thy grandeur moves me now. 

    Thou flowest on in quiet, till thy waves 
Grow broken ’midst the rocks; thy current then 
Shoots onward like the irresistible course 
Of destiny. Ah, terribly they rage
The hoarse and rapid whirlpools there! My brain 
Grows wild, my senses wander, as I gaze 
Upon the hurrying waters, and my sight 
Vainly would follow, as toward the verge 
Sweeps the wide torrent-waves innumerable 
Meet there and maddenwaves innumerable 
Urge on and overtake the waves before, 
And disappear in thunder and in foam. 

    They reach they leap the barrierthe abyss 
Swallows insatiable the sinking waves. 
A thousand rainbows arch them, and woods 
Are deafened with the roar. The violent shock 
Shatters to vapor the descending sheets 
A cloudy whirlwind fills the gulf, and heaves 
The mighty pyramid of circling mist 
To heaven. The solitary hunter near 
Pauses with terror in the forest shades.

    What seeks my restless eye? Why are not here, 
About the jaws of this abyss, the palms
Ahthe delicious palms, that on the plains 
Of my own native Cuba, spring and spread 
Their thickly foliaged summits to the sun, 
And, in the breathings of the ocean air, 
Wave soft beneath the heaven’s unspotted blue.

    But no, Niagara, thy forest pines. 
Are fitter coronal for thee. The palm, 
The effeminate myrtle, and frail rose may grow 
In gardens, and give out their fragrance there, 
Unmanning him who breathes it. Thine it is 
To do a nobler office. Generous minds 
Behold thee, and are moved, and learn to rise 
Above earth’s frivolous pleasures; they partake 
Thy grandeur at the utterance of thy name. 

    God of all truth! In other lands I’ve seen 
Lying philosophers, blaspheming men, 
Questioners of thy mysteries, that draw 
Their fellows deep into impiety, 
And therefore doth my spirit seek thy face 
In earth’s majestic solitudes. Even here 
My heart doth open all itself to thee. 
In this immensity of loneliness 
I feel thy hand upon me. Το my ear 
The eternal thunder of the cataract brings 
Thy voice, and I am humbled as I hear. 

    Dread torrent! that with wonder and with fear 
Dost overwhelm the soul of him that looks 
Upon thee, and dost bear it from itself. 
Whence hast thou thy beginning? Who supplies, 
Age after age, thy unexhausted springs? 
What power hath ordered, that, when all thy weight 
Descends into the deep, the swollen waves 
Rise not, and roll to overwhelm the earth? 

    The Lord hath opened his omnipotent hand, 
Covered thy face with clouds, and given his voice 
To thy down-rushing waters; he hath girt 
Thy terrible forehead with his radiant bow. 
I see thy never-resting waters run, 
And I bethink me how the tide of time 
Sweeps to eternity. So pass of man— 
Pass, like a noon-day dream-the blossoming days, 
And he awakes to sorrow. I, alas! 
Feel that my youth is withered, and my brow 
Ploughed early with the lines of grief and care.

    Never have I so deeply felt as now 
The hopeless solitude, the abandonment, 
The anguish of a loveless life. Alas! 
How can the impassioned, the unfrozen heart 
Be happy without love. I would that one 
Beautiful,worthy to be loved and joined 
In love with me,now shared my lonely walk 
On this tremendous brink. ’T were sweet to see 
Her dear face touched with paleness, and become 
More beautiful from fear, and overspread 
With a faint smile while clinging to my side! 
Dreamsdreams. I am an exile, and for me 
There is no country and there is no love. 

    Hear, dread Niagara, my latest voice! 
Yet a few years and the cold earth shall close 
Over the bones of him who sings thee now 
Thus feelingly. Would that this, my humble verse, 
Might be like thee, immortal. I, meanwhile, 
Cheerfully passing to the appointed rest, 
Might raise my radiant forehead in the clouds 
To listen to the echoes of my fame. 

  (1827)

 


 

Niágara

 

Templad mi lira, dádmela, que siento 
en mi alma estremecida y agitada 
arder la inspiracion. ¡Oh! ¡cuánto tiempo 
en tinieblas pasó, sin que mi frente 
brillase con su luz . . . ! Niágara undoso, 
tu sublime terror solo podría 
tornarme el don divino, que ensañada 
me robó del dolor la mano impía. 

    Torrente prodigioso, calma, calla 
tu trueno aterrador: disipa un tanto 
las tinieblas que en torno te circundan, 
déjame contemplar tu faz serena, 
y de entusiasmo ardiente mi alma llena. 
Yo digno soy de contemplarte: siempre 
lo comun y mezquino desdeñando, 
ansié por lo terrífico y sublime. 
Al despeñarse el huracan furioso, 
al retumbar sobre mi frente el rayo, 
palpitando gozé: ví al Oceáno 
azotado por austro proceloso, 
combatir mi bajel, y ante mis plantas 
vórtice hirviente abrir, y amé el peligro. 
Mas del mar la fiereza 
en mi alma no produjo 
la profunda impresion que tu grandeza. 

    Sereno corres, magestoso; y luego 
en ásperos peñascos quebrantado, 
te abalanzas violento, arrebatado, 
como el destino irresistible y ciego. 
¿Qué voz humana describir podría 
de la sirte rugiente 
la aterradora faz? El alma mia 
en vago pensamiento se confunde 
al mirar esa férvida corriente, 
que en vano quiere la turbada vista 
en su vuelo seguir al borde oscuro 
del precipicio altísimo: mil olas, 
cual pensamiento rápidas pasando, 
chocan, y se enfurecen, 
y otras mil y otras mil ya las alcanzan, 
y entre espuma y fragor desaparecen. 

    Ved! llegan, saltan! El abismo horrendo 
devora los torrentes despeñados: 
crúzanse en él mil íris, y asordados 
vuelven los bosques el fragor tremendo. 
En las rígidas peñas 
rómpese el agua: vaporosa nube 
con elástica fuerza 
llena el abismo en torbellino, sube, 
gira en torno, y al éter 
luminosa pirámide levanta, 
y por sobre los montes que le cercan 
al solitario cazador espanta. 

    Mas ¿qué en tí busca mi anhelante vista 
con inútil afan? ¿Porqué no miro 
al rededor de tu caverna inmensa 
las palmas ¡ay! las palmas deliciosas, 
que en las llanuras de mi ardiente patria 
nacen del sol á la sonrisa, y crecen, 
y al soplo de las brisas del Oceano, 
bajo un cielo purísimo se mecen? 

    Este recuerdo á mi pesar me viene. 
Nada joh Niágara! falta á tu destino, 
ni otra corona que el agreste pino 
á tu terrible magestad conviene. 
La palma, y mirto y delicada rosa, 
muelle placer inspiren y ocio blando. 
en frívolo jardin: á tí la suerte 
guardó mas digno objeto, mas sublime. 
El alma libre, generosa, fuerte, 
viene, te vé, se asombra, 
el mezquino deleite menosprecia, 
y aun se siente elevar cuando te nombra. 

    Omnipotente Dios! En otros climas. 
ví monstruos execrables, 
blasfemando tu nombre sacrosanto, 
sembrar error y fanatismo impío, 
los campos inundar en sangre y llanto, 
de hermanos atizar la infanda guerra, 
y desolar frenéticos la tierra. 
Vílos, y el pecho se inflamó á su vista 
en grave indignacion. Por otra parte 
ví mentidos filósofos, que osaban 
escrutar tus misterios, ultrajarte, 
y de impiedad al lamentable abismo 
á los míseros hombres arrastraban. 
Por eso te buscó mi débil mente 
en la sublime soledad: ahora 
entera se abre á tí; tu mano siente 
en esta inmensidad que me circunda, 
y tu profunda voz hiere mi seno 
de este raudal en el eterno trueno. 

    Asombroso torrente! 
¡Cómo tu vista el ánimo enagena, 
y de terror y admiracion me llena! 
¿Dó tu orígen está? ¿Quién fertiliza 
por tantos siglos tu inexhausta fuente? 
¿Qué poderosa mano 
hace que al recibirte 
no rebose en la tierra el Oceáno? 

    Abrió el Señor su mano omnipotente; 
cubrió tu faz de nubes agitadas, 
dió su voz á tus aguas despeñadas, 
y ornó con su arco tu terrible frente. 
Ciego, profundo, infatigable corres, 
como el torrente oscuro de los siglos 
en insondable eternidad . . . ! Al hombre 
huyen así las ilusiones gratas, 
los florecientes dias, 
y despierta al dolor . . . ! ¡Ay! agostada 
yace mi juventud, mi faz marchita, 
y la profunda pena que me agita 
ruga mi frente de dolor nublada. 

    Nunca tanto sentí como este dia 
mi soledad y mísero abandono 
y lamentable desamor . . . ¿Podría 
en edad borrascosa 
sin amor ser feliz . . . ? ¡Oh! ¡si una hermosa 
mi cariño fijase, 
y de este abismo al borde turbulento 
mi vago pensamiento 
y ardiente admiracion acompañase! 
¡Cómo gozara, viéndola cubrirse 
de leve palidez, y ser mas bella 
en su dulce terror, y sonreírse 
al sostenerla mis amantes brazos . . . 
Delirios de virtud . . . ! ¡Ay! Desterrado, 
sin patria, sin amores, 
solo miro ante mí llanto y dolores. 

    Niágara poderoso! 
Adios! adios! Dentro de pocos años 
ya devorado habrá la tumba fria 
á tu débil cantor. Duren mis versos 
cual tu gloria inmortal! Pueda piadoso 
viéndote algun viagero, 
dar un suspiro á la memoria mia! 
Y al abismarse Febo en occidente, 
feliz yo vuele do el Señor me llama, 
y al escuchar los ecos de mi fama, 
alze en las nubes la radiosa frente. 

(Junio de 1824.)

José María Heredia y Heredia, “Niágara”: Poesías de Don Jose Maria Heredia (Boston: Roe Lockwood & Son, 1858). “Niágara”: United States Review and Literary Gazette 2 (January 1827), translated by Thatcher Taylor Payne.

Subscribe to the Poem-a-Day Podcast 

  

In his essay, “Translating José María Heredia’s ‘Niágara’ into English,” Keith Ellis, a scholar, critic, and translator of Latin American literature, wrote, “An initial circumstance facing the translator of José María Heredia’s poem ‘Niágara’ is that there are two versions of the poem: the original, written on June 15, 1824, and published in 1825 in New York, and what is known as the Toluca version, which appeared in the second edition of his Poesías of 1832 […]. So the translator’s first task is to decide which of the two is to be selected for translation, a task that underlines the fact that a translator is first of all a reader. It is normally accepted that the latest or later version of a poem or any other literary work is the preferred one. Poets who have had the opportunity and the desire to prepare anthologies of their works have tended to include the later versions of their poems where more than one version exists.” 

José María Heredia

José María Heredia y Heredia, also known as José María Heredia y Campuzano, was born on December 31, 1803, in Santiago de Cuba. Heredia is considered to be the first poet of American Romanticism, especially in Latin America. He authored Poesías (Behr and Kahl, 1825), and in 1832, an expanded and revised edition of Poesías was published in Toluca, Mexico. He died on May 7, 1839. 

Thatcher Taylor Payne was born on August 14, 1796, in New York, and is a descendant of poet, playwright, and actor John Howard Payne (1791–1852) who wrote “Home! Sweet Home.” Payne died on December 27, 1863, in Brooklyn, New York. 

Latino Poetry: The Library of America Anthology
Latino Poetry: The Library of America Anthology
(Library of America, 2024)

Latino Poetry: The Library of America Anthology is the centerpiece of Latino Poetry: Places We Call Home, a national public humanities initiative made possible with support from the National Endowment for the Humanities and Emerson Collective. Find out more at latinopoetry.org.

about this special edition of poem-a-day

“Niágara / Niagara” by José María Heredia y Heredia, translated by Thatcher Taylor Payne, is featured in Poem-a-Day as part of a National Hispanic Heritage Month collaboration between the Academy of American Poets and Library of America.
“Mont Blanc” by Percy Bysshe Shelley
read more
“Song of Myself, 33” by Walt Whitman
read more

Thanks to Sawako Nakayasu, author of Pink Waves (Omnidawn, 2023), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month’s weekdays. Read or listen to a Q&A about Nakayasu’s curatorial approach and find out more about our Guest Editors for the year.
“Poem-a-Day is brilliant because it makes space in the everyday racket for something as meaningful as a poem.” —Tracy K. Smith

If this series is meaningful to you, join the community of Poem-a-Day supporters by making a gift today. Now serving more than 320,000 daily subscribers, this publication is only possible thanks to the contributions of readers like you.
 
Copyright © 2024 The Academy of American Poets, All rights reserved.
You are receiving this email because you opted in via our website.



Our mailing address is:
The Academy of American Poets
75 Maiden Lane
STE #901
New York, NY 10038

Add us to your address book


View this email in your browser

Want to change how you receive these emails?
You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from all Academy messages.

For any other questions, please visit the Poem-a-Day FAQ page.

Older messages

"Beauty Feast" by Hannah Emerson

Friday, September 20, 2024

The love / the only kissing union / that helps union become Facebook Twitter Instagram Support Poem-a-Day September 20, 2024 Beauty Feast Hannah Emerson The love the only kissing union that helps union

"A Violet Darkness" by Najwan Darwish, translated by Kareem James Abu-Zeid

Thursday, September 19, 2024

And all that remains for me is to follow a violet darkness Facebook Twitter Instagram Support Poem-a-Day September 19, 2024 A Violet Darkness Najwan Darwish translated from the Arabic by Kareem James

"What is it that I glimpse / There on the distant shore"

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

September 18, 2024 hispanic heritage month A facsimile of Nicolás Heredia y Mota's poem “La bandera americana,” courtesy of Edgar Peguero y Heredia. read the poem more reading poet laureate fellow

Last chance to get 20% off Teach This Poem Volume I: The Natural World

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

Get your copy of collected Teach This Poem lessons! Facebook Twitter Instagram September 18, 2024 Order Teach This Poem, Volume I: The Natural World by September 19 for 20% off. Published through

"Some Verse for the Depressed Rebel" by Ahmad Almallah

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

Fame is a B. You received its / fatal sting— Facebook Twitter Instagram Support Poem-a-Day September 18, 2024 Some Verse for the Depressed Rebel Ahmad Almallah for Lorca 1 * Fame is a B. You received

You Might Also Like

This Polarizing Shoe Trend Took Over The Runways At Paris Fashion Week

Friday, October 4, 2024

Show a little leg. The Zoe Report Daily The Zoe Report 10.3.2024 This Polarizing Shoe Trend Took Over The Runways At Paris Fashion Week (Runway) This Polarizing Shoe Trend Took Over The Runways At

My Top 3: Board Games

Friday, October 4, 2024

Do NOT pass go. ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

Google Just Announced Five New AI Features Coming to Search

Thursday, October 3, 2024

Google is adding five new features to Search today, including, of course, new AI features. Despite that, there are some potentially useful change Not displaying correctly? View this newsletter online.

Kim Kardashian's Micro Thong Was Basically A Panty Liner

Thursday, October 3, 2024

Plus, Dua Lipa's gothic exposed bra, your daily horoscope, & more. Oct. 3, 2024 Bustle Daily A vintage-style collage featuring a worried woman with a pen and a contemplative man, both against a

What Wedding Planners Wish You Didn’t Spend Money On

Thursday, October 3, 2024

Today in style, self, culture, and power. The Cut October 03, 2024 TAKE OUR SURVEY For an upcoming story, the Cut is surveying readers about their views on all things bras — when you wear them, which

How to cook a squirrel

Thursday, October 3, 2024

In defense of TikTok's fridgescaping trend ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

Win The Date Of A Lifetime

Thursday, October 3, 2024

Romance is back. Oct. 3, 2024 Bustle Daily The time is now – ask them out. This Saturday, October 5, invite your crush to a special early screening of new A24 romance We Live In Time followed by a

Don’t quit.

Thursday, October 3, 2024

New London Workshop. ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

"Because if love doesn’t survive, why would you want to?"

Thursday, October 3, 2024

October 3, 2024 poets born in october “He Goads Himself,” Louis Untermeyer (October 1, 1885) “The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm,” Wallace Stevens (October 2, 1879) “The Day-Breakers,” Arna

Sip And Stroll At The Same Time

Thursday, October 3, 2024

I finally participated in one of my hometown's economic revitalization activities ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏