From “Simple Verses”

^{translated from the Spanish by Anne Fountain}

A sincere man am I 
Born where the palm trees grow, 
And l long before I die 
My soul’s verses to bestow. 

No boundaries bind my heart 
I belong to every land: 
I am art among art, 
A peak among peaks I stand. 

I know the exotic names 
Of every flower and leaf. 
I know of betrayal’s claims 
And I know of exalted grief. 

I’ve seen how beauteous streams 
Flow through the dark of night 
And descend as radiant beams 
In a luminous shower of light. 

As if by wings set free, 
I’ve seen women’s shoulders rise: 
And beauty emerge from debris 
In a flight of butterflies. 

I’ve seen a man live with pain
The dagger wounds at his side, 
Yet never reveal the name
Of her by whose hand he died. 

Two times I’ve sensed inside 
The soul’s reflection go by. 
Once when my father died 
And once when she bade goodbye. 

Once I trembled with fear
Close by the arbor’s vine, 
As an angry bee drew near 
To sing a child of mine. 

That day of my death decree 
I felt both triumph and pride, 
For the warden who read it to me
Pronounced the sentence and cried. 

Beneath me I hear a sigh
From the slumber of earth and sea. 
But in truth it’s the morning cry 
Of my son who awakens me. 

The jewel esteemed the most? 
The value I most revere? 
I would of friendship boast 
And hold not love so dear. 

The wounded eagle, I know 
Can soar to the bluest skies 
While the venomous viper below
Chokes on its poison and dies. 

I know that when life must yield 
And leave us to restful dreams
That alongside the silent field
Is the murmur of gentle streams. 

To sorrows and joy, I reply
By placing a loyal hand, 
On the star that refused to die—
Proud symbol of my land. 

My heart holds anguish and pains 
From a wound which festers and cries 
The son of a people in chains
Lives for them, hushes, and dies. 

All is lovely and right
All is reason and song
Before the diamond is bright
Its night of carbon is long. 

I know that the foolish may die 
With burial pomp and tears 
And that no land can supply 
The fruit which the graveyard bears. 

Silent, I quit the renown 
And boast of a poet’s rhyme 
And rest my doctoral gown 
On a tree withered with time. 

de Versos sencillos 

   Yo soy un hombre sincero 
De donde crece la palma, 
Y antes de morirme quiero 
Echar mis versos del alma. 

   Yo vengo de todas partes, 
Y hacia todas partes voy:
Arte soy entre las artes, 
En los montes, monte soy.

   Yo sé los nombres extraños
De las yerbas y las flores, 
Y de mortales engaños, 
Y de sublimes dolores. 
   Yo he visto en la noche oscura 
Llover sobre mi cabeza 
Los rayos de lumbre pura
De la divina belleza. 

   Alas nacer vi en los hombros 
De las mujeres hermosas:
Y salir de los escombros 
Volando las mariposas. 

   He visto vivir a un hombre 
Con el puñal al costado, 
Sin decir jamás el nombre 
De aquella que lo ha matado. 

   Rápida, como un reflejo, 
Dos veces vi el alma, dos: 
Cuando murió el pobre viejo, 
Cuando ella me dijo adiós. 

   Temblé una vez,—en la reja, 
A la entrada de la viña,—
Cuando la bárbara abeja 
Picó en la frente a mi niña. 

   Gocé una vez, de tal suerte 
Que gocé cual nunca:—cuando 
La sentencia de mi muerte 
Leyó el alcaide llorando. 

   Oigo un suspiro, a través
De las tierras y al mar, 
Y no es un suspiro,—es 
Que mi hijo va a despertar. 

   Si dicen que del joyero 
Tome la joya mejor, 
Tomo a un amigo sincero 
Y pongo a un lado el amor. 

   Yo he visto al águila herida 
Volar al azul sereno,
Y morir en su guarida 
La víbora del veneno. 

   Yo sé bien que cuando el mundo
Cede, livido, al descanso, 
Sobre la estrella apagada 
Que cayó frente a mi puerta. 

   Oculto en mi pecho bravo
La pena que me lo hiere:
El hijo de un pueblo esclavo 
Vive por él, calla, y muere.  

   Todo es hermoso y constante, 
Todo es música y razón,
Y todo, como el diamante, 
Antes que luz es carbon. 

   Yo sé el necio se entierra 
Con gran lujo y con gran llanto,—
Y que no hay fruta en la tierra 
Como la del camposanto. 

   Callo, y entiendo, y me quito
La pompa del rimador:
Cuelgo de un árbol marchito 
Mi muceta de doctor. 

José Martí, de Versos sencillos / from Simple Verses: Versos Sencillos, trans. Anne Fountain (Jefferson City, NC: McFarland & Co., 2005). Translation copyright © 2005 Anne Fountain. Reprinted with the permission of McFarland & Co.

Subscribe to the Poem-a-Day Podcast 

  

In the biographical essay “José Martí: The World’s Most Popular Poetry, and a Vision for the Americas,” Anne Fountain, a professor emerita of world languages and literatures at San José State University, noted, “In addition to the essays, Martí is best known for poetry, especially from the books Ismaelillo [Little Ishmael], tender verses dedicated to his son, published in 1882, and Simple Verses of 1891, the sincere verses that sprang from the heart and reflected defining moments of his life and sentiments that he held dear.” Fountain later wrote, “Simple Verses carried Martí’s preoccupation with North America’s imperialistic gaze toward Latin America but also reflected the support and consolation of friendship. […] The topics covered in Simple Verses are varied, but many are autobiographical, [and] while many begin in first-person mode, Martí’s ‘I’ is not a selfish claim but rather an introduction to universal concerns: love, friendship, loyalty, and respect for nature.”

Anne Fountain is an Argentinian translator, editor, and a professor emerita at San José State University where she taught courses in Latin American culture and civilization and Spanish American literature. She authored José Martí, the United States, and Race (University Press of Florida, 2014), and her translation work includes two collections of stories by Cuban writer Nancy Alonso. 

about this special edition of poem-a-day