Two Countries
By José Martí
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
I have two countries: Cuba and the night.
Or are they one? No sooner does the sun
withdraw its majesty than, dressed in long
veils with a carnation in her hand,
Cuba appears to me a silent widow.
I know what that bloodstained carnation is
atremble in her hand. My breast is empty.
Sundered it is, and empty where the heart
once was. The hour is already come
to begin dying. Night is a good time
to say goodbye. Light is impediment
as is the human word. The universe
speaks better than man.
Like a flag that calls
to battle on the field, the candle's flame
flutters ablaze in red. I open windows
feeling such tightness. Crushing the carnation's
petals in silence, like a cloud befogging
the heavens, widow Cuba passes by.
Audio of me reading this poem in Spanish
Random notes on the Spanish:
Un clavel en la mano — echoes the phrase un clavo en la mano "a nail in the hand" and has a slightly ghastly feel to it. The terms clavel and clavo are in fact related (see here.)
La llama roja / de la vela flamea — a masterful bit of wordplay. vela means three things: "wakefulness," "candle" and "sail." Flamear means both "flare, blaze (of a candle)" and "flutter (of a sail)." Note also that vela is one gender and one vowel away from the velos (veils) in which Cuba is garbed.
The words Cuba, muda, viuda, nube are sonically linked by having the deep /u/ vowel followed by a fricative.
The Original:
Dos Patrias
Dos patrias tengo yo: Cuba y la noche.
¿O son una las dos? No bien retira
su majestad el sol, con largos velos
y un clavel en la mano, silenciosa
Cuba cual viuda triste me aparece.
¡Yo sé cuál es ese clavel sangriento
que en la mano le tiembla! Está vacío
mi pecho, destrozado está y vacío
en donde estaba el corazón. Ya es hora
de empezar a morir. La noche es buena
para decir adiós. La luz estorba
y la palabra humana. El universo
habla mejor que el hombre.
Cual bandera
que invita a batallar, la llama roja
de la vela flamea. Las ventanas
abro, ya estrecho en mí. Muda, rompiendo
las hojas del clavel, como una nube
que enturbia el cielo, Cuba, viuda, pasa...
By José Martí
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
I have two countries: Cuba and the night.
Or are they one? No sooner does the sun
withdraw its majesty than, dressed in long
veils with a carnation in her hand,
Cuba appears to me a silent widow.
I know what that bloodstained carnation is
atremble in her hand. My breast is empty.
Sundered it is, and empty where the heart
once was. The hour is already come
to begin dying. Night is a good time
to say goodbye. Light is impediment
as is the human word. The universe
speaks better than man.
Like a flag that calls
to battle on the field, the candle's flame
flutters ablaze in red. I open windows
feeling such tightness. Crushing the carnation's
petals in silence, like a cloud befogging
the heavens, widow Cuba passes by.
Audio of me reading this poem in Spanish
Random notes on the Spanish:
Un clavel en la mano — echoes the phrase un clavo en la mano "a nail in the hand" and has a slightly ghastly feel to it. The terms clavel and clavo are in fact related (see here.)
La llama roja / de la vela flamea — a masterful bit of wordplay. vela means three things: "wakefulness," "candle" and "sail." Flamear means both "flare, blaze (of a candle)" and "flutter (of a sail)." Note also that vela is one gender and one vowel away from the velos (veils) in which Cuba is garbed.
The words Cuba, muda, viuda, nube are sonically linked by having the deep /u/ vowel followed by a fricative.
The Original:
Dos Patrias
Dos patrias tengo yo: Cuba y la noche.
¿O son una las dos? No bien retira
su majestad el sol, con largos velos
y un clavel en la mano, silenciosa
Cuba cual viuda triste me aparece.
¡Yo sé cuál es ese clavel sangriento
que en la mano le tiembla! Está vacío
mi pecho, destrozado está y vacío
en donde estaba el corazón. Ya es hora
de empezar a morir. La noche es buena
para decir adiós. La luz estorba
y la palabra humana. El universo
habla mejor que el hombre.
Cual bandera
que invita a batallar, la llama roja
de la vela flamea. Las ventanas
abro, ya estrecho en mí. Muda, rompiendo
las hojas del clavel, como una nube
que enturbia el cielo, Cuba, viuda, pasa...
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