Spain, Take This Chalice from Me and Other Poems

by César Vallejo, Ilan Stavans (Editor), Margaret Sayers Peden (Translator)

A major new bilingual edition of the Peruvian poet's work

Cesar Vallejo is one of the best-known Latin American poets of the twentieth century. Challenging, intense, and difficult to translate, Vallejo's work has often been overshadowed by his fervent endorsement of communism. Noted scholar Ilan Stavans tackles the avant- garde poet's politics head-on in an enlightening new introduction that places Vallejo in his proper literary context, while Margaret Sayers Peden's new translation does full justice to Vallejo's complex literary style. Including Spanish and English versions of more than eighty poems that span the arc of his career, this volume is certain to become the leading collection of Vallejo's work for years to come.

For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Spanish Literature, 20th Century, Latin American

352 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1974

About the author

César Abraham Vallejo Mendoza was a Peruvian poet. Although he published only three books of poetry during his lifetime, he is considered one of the great poetic innovators of the 20th century. Always a step ahead of the literary currents, each of his books was distinct from the others and, in it's own sense, revolutionary. Clayton Eshleman and José Rubia Barcia's translation of "The Complete Posthumous Poetry of César Vallejo" won the National Book Award for translation in 1979.

Reviews

[lau · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nois… ¡La violencia y la ternura de César Vallejo! Me deshago infinitamente ante el que quizá sea el mayor planto poético sobre la Guerra Civil española. No queremos ponernos serios y opinólogos pero no puedo sino llorar estos quince poemitas que brotan de la más humana deshumanización: del amor latente en lo más tristemente humano. Nuestro amigo César combina vanguardia y compromiso en ese balance que tantos autores no han sabido cuidar (Pablo Neruda, te estoy mirando a ti): ética y estética dialogan, se funden… y no sé si llorar o parar un momento a respirar o qué, pero bueno solo decir que te quiero César Vallejo, que además eres guapísimo y que ojalá la edición de 1939 no llevara un dibujo del inútil de Pablo Picasso. En fin, brillante y doliente, la herida nace de un concepto que se quiebra cuando quiere dar voz al dolor, siempre desde lo local a lo universal porque “el mundo está español hasta la muerte”. Por lo demás, podemos obviar lo problemático de la figura de España-madre (que ya aparece en el título con toda la movida bíblica del huertico de los olivos) y atender a cómo construye desde abajo, desde el individuo («Pedro Rojas», por favor), la imagen nacional, porque sinceramente chu-lí-si-mo. Has hablado genial, mi niño.

[Elif · Rating 1 out of 5]

Benlik değildi, çeviri şiir olmasının bir etkisi olabilir.

[matías saavedra · Rating 3 out of 5]

Le dejaron y oyeron, y es entonces
que el cadáver
casi vivió en secreto, en un instante

[Justin Evans · Rating 3 out of 5]

I started this when I was staying with a couple of friends up in Portland. I finished it the other day; in the meantime, my friends have conceived, carried, given birth to and celebrated at least two birthdays with their daughter. So, it took me a while.

The reason is not far to seek: I cannot, and I suspect, never will, deal well with the kind of Hispanic poetry that uses quite this many exclamation marks! Granted, many of these poems are written in the exhortative mode! That goes not just for the obviously political poems towards the end of the volume, but also for the much more experimental work of Trilce! And even some of the earlier poems! Is this a thing with all Spanish poetry?! I can only assume not! But it sure is easy to parody! And that does a great disservice to Vallejo, whose work combines some wonderful imagery with great intellectual and emotional power! I'm also a bit disappointed in the translation, which has very little in the way of musicality! I suspect this is all very hard to translate, so I'm not going to rant about it! And I would be very willing to read different translations, particularly of Trilce!

[Noel Cisneros · Rating 5 out of 5]

El dolor y absurdo de la guerra se torna en oraciones fúnebres con la habilidad de Vallejo.

[Bea Manguen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Este poemario es duro y siento cada verso. Vallejo, el peruano más español. Sus poemas como plegarias gritan por la unificación de una España de hermanos divididos.
Masa es mi favorito y España aparta de mi este cáliz me hace llorar.

[Lucinda Garza Zamarripa · Rating 4 out of 5]

La manera que tiene Vallejo de conmover en este sincretismo de marxismo y catolicismo, en este amor por el pueblo y por la República. La manera en la que no nos deja a ninguno indiferente.

[Lectura #1 para Literatura, Sociedad y Compromiso]

[Mika · Rating 5 out of 5]

matemos todos a la muerte

[Michael Palkowski · Rating 3 out of 5]

The translations read as though a great deal of context and detail sieved through the process, more than normally would. This is something however which must be expected when attempting to translate such a formidable poet who experimented with word play, slang, juxtaposed quirks, musical and religious terminology, bilingual borrowings and complex meters. The translator comes to this project emphasizing the sheer difficulty of this and showcases the amorphous reality of attempting to appropriate works from a certain paradigmatic historical period into english. I lament that i am not a polyglot, for i would be able to appreciate the bilingual quality of this book in enclosing the original poems alongside the translations. I feel that, despite the overwhelming difficulty, she has by my anglophonic reading, done a rather nice job at retaining the erudite complexity that i can only presume the originals had in quite an abundance.

[Ernest · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simple, accessible, yet strikingly powerful- poems here vary from short snippets of life in Peru, to more abstract internalization of his life thus far. The introductions and short biographical elements included in the editors help make these snapshots more personal. Will reread this some time at a later date- didn't particular understand some of the narratives present here, but I'm sure it'll be clearer soon.

[Robin Boardman · Rating 4 out of 5]

An emotive poetical account of the Spanish Civil War. Vallejo matches the efforts of his contemporaries such as Pablo Neruda to create a unified spirit of Republican resistance. His work calls forth the name of those lost and immortalises them in this volume. Vallejo transcends their lost by forming their resistance as a unified voice. Through words and poetry their struggle will live on through the generations, a key example of anti-fascist struggle.

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent stuff: surreal, dark, slightly twisted.

Powerful humanism and lyric energy. Imagistic and haunting.

It was given to me as a gift a little while ago....I carried it with me everywhere I went... A real gem, and all the better for not being as well known as many another edgy surrealist.

[Shannon · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a bilingual edition and I read the Kindle version. Formatting for the Kindle edition was poor and the translation (obviously) doesn't capture the beauty of his original language. Pity my Spanish skills are not good enough to read entirely in the original. Still, some of these poems came through for me and were just sublime. Just find it in hard copy!

[Duff · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really good translations opposite the original Spanish. Always appreciate being able to scan back and forth. Vallejo is a favorite, so this small book was indeed a pleasure. Borrowed it from the library and now searching to own it to add to my poetry collection.

[M.W.P.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Then, retreating from Talavera,
in groups of one, armed with hunger, in masses of one,
armed with chest up to the forehead,
without planes, without war, without rancor,
the loss behind
& the gain
lower than the lead, mortally wounded by honour,
crazed by dust, the arm on foot,
loving unwillingly,
conquering the whole earth in a Spanish way,
to retreat still, & not to know
where to put their Spain,
where to hide their orbital kiss,
where to plant their pocket-size olive tree!

- pg. 19

* * *

The beggars fight for Spain,
begging in Paris, in Rome, in Prague
& thus underlining, with an imploring Gothic hand
the feet are fighting & begging God
satanically for Santander,
that combat in which no longer is anyone defeated.
They deliver themselves to
the old suffering, they insist on crying social lead
at the foot of the individual,
& with moans those beggars attack,
killing by merely being beggars.

Pleas of the infantry
in which the weapon pleads from the metal up
& the wrath pleads, this side of the raging gunpowder.
Silent squadrons which fire,
with mortal cadence, their gentleness
from a threshold, from inside themselves, yes! from inside themselves.

Potential warriors,
without socks to cannon thunder,
satanic, numerous,
dragging their titles of strength,
crumb under belt,
double calibre rifle: blood & blood
The poet hails armed suffering!

- pg. 33-34

* * *

A book remained at the edge of his dead waist,
a book was sprouting from his dead corpse.
The hero was carried off,
& corporeally & evilly his mouth entered our breath;
all of us sweated, carrying our navels on our shoulders;
wanderers the moons were following us;
the dead man also was sweating from sadness.

And a book, during the battle for Toledo,
a book, a book behind, a book on top, was sprouting from the corpse.

Poetry of the purple cheekbone, between saying it
& not saying it,
poetry in the moral map that once accompanied
his heart.
The book remained & nothing else, for there are no
insects in his tomb,
& at the edge of his sleeve the air remained soaking
& becoming gaseous, infinite.

All of us sweated, carrying our navels on our shoulders,
the dead man also was sweating from sadness.
& a book, I saw it sensewise,
a book, a book behind, a book on top
sprouted from the corpse ex abrupto.

- Short Prayer for a Dead Loyalist Hero, pg. 53

* * *

At the end of the battle,
the combatant dead, a man came toward him
& said: "Don't die; I love you so much!"
But oh God the corpse kept on dying.

Two men approached him & repeated:
"Don't leave us! Be brave! Return to life!"
But oh God the corpse kept on dying.

20, 100, 1000, 500,000 came up to him,
exclaiming: "So much love & no power against death!"
But oh God the corpse kept on dying.

Millions of persons surrounded him,
with a common plea: "Stay, brother!"
But oh God the corpse kept on dying.

Then all the inhabitants of the earth
surrounded him; the corpse looked at them sadly, moved:
he sat up slowly,
embraced the first man, began to walk . . .

- Mass, pg. 61

[Luisa Ripoll-Alberola · Rating 5 out of 5]

Justo hoy, día de la Hispanidad, se cruzaron conmigo los versos de Vallejo:

Niños del mundo,
si cae España –digo, es un decir–
si cae...

Y la verdad me sentí atrapada e hice un parón de más de una hora de estudiar para leerme de corrido este increíble poemario que honra a la hispanidad, por así decirlo, mestiza, combativa, nada fácil de aprehender, que es en la que creo.

Y así empieza con

¡Oh vida! ¡Oh tierra! ¡Oh España!
¡Onzas de sangre,
metros de sangre, líquidos de sangre,
sangre a caballo, a pie, mural, sin diámetro,
sangre de cuatro en cuatro, sangre de agua
y sangre muerta de la sangre viva!

pasando por

Padre polvo que subes de España
Dios te salve, libere y corone,
padre polvo que asciendes del alma.

para acabar en

¡Cuídate, España, de tu propia España!

[Taylor Napolsky · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a lot to take in, and I don’t feel fully equipped to make comments on it until I give it another read.

(Proceeds to do it anyway.)

To keep it one hundred—I have little idea what’s going on in most of these poems; but I don’t mind that... The language is entrancing, and exciting, the work of someone who you really get the sense he was thinking differently. I completely admire that. There’s such a “misunderstood soul” sensibility to it (my projection maybe...probably. But what the hell? I’m going to go with it). I worked my way through this, reading compulsively, enamored with the spiritual aesthetic, the fiery emotion, the urgency.

[Emīls Ozoliņš · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cesar Vallejo was an intriguing fella. Had I not examined the shelves of my local university library, I don’t think I would have stumbled upon Vallejo anytime soon. Yet he is important. Yet they say he’s second only to Neruda in the Latin-American world.
So there’s something about him, as you can tell.
He’s good. Poetry is very hit-or-miss - so is art as a whole - but poetry tends to be like love at first sight, it’s either there or not. Some poems may come around, some poems may falter. Some may not last the test of time in your mind.
Some were incredible. Some I didn’t care at all for. Some I cringed at a little. Such is the rollercoaster we happened to sign ourselves for.

[Kris · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am not ashamed to say that I think this one went over my head a bit. Sometimes I thought the individual lines were pretty, but then it would not make sense to me in relation to the next line and the next. He was clearly discussing some important subjects, but I could not seem to quite grasp them.
I did get an overwhelming feeling of depression and sadness and reading a brief story of his life that definitely checks out. He clearly was able to purvey that and I respect these works for that, but for me I found it too hard to connect to the individual poems.

[Mike · Rating 4 out of 5]

Intensely felt ruminations on the Spanish Civil War, directly witnessed by the Peruvian poet Vallejo, just before his death in Paris in 1938. Unlike many of the poems I’ve read of the Spanish Civil War, especially by writers from the United States, these feel intensely personal, not just as a lament for the death of “Mother Spain,” but for the destruction of the peasant way of life. Vallejo doesn’t begin with grand, sweeping, universal themes of War, Death, and Sacrifice, but instead structures his verse as inside remarks or private conversations and thoughts, with references that only locals might understand. Ironic, considering Vallejo was Peruvian.

Even more ironic: the best poem of the lot might not be the title poem, but “Mass,” which, according to his widow, was written not during the war, but in 1929. This is also the only poem that reads more universal than specific:

At the end of the battle,
The combatant dead, a man came toward him
& said: “Don’t die! I love you so much!”
But oh God the corpse kept on dying.

That poem has a surprise ending, but not necessarily a happy one. The corpse arises and walks away – but remains a corpse in the end.

As throughout the collection, Vallejo's message might be more of a warning than a lament. And this, ultimately, is the universal message conveyed within the personal and the private that emerges by the end of the book: Spain is the world. As Vallejo writes in his final poem in this collection: "Beware, Spain, of your own Spain! ... Beware of the future!"

[raq 🌞 · Rating 4 out of 5]

sobre la Guerra Civil, me gustó y lo releí para un trabajo de la universidad. Investigando sobre él estoy aprendiendo muchísimo, me gustó el trasfondo y el mensaje que quiere transmitir Vallejo, que el amor universal y tenernos los unos a los otros es lo único que nos hace sobrevivir, tanto a la guerra, como a todo lo que nos ocurre en la vida. Al fin y al cabo, ¿Qué somos sin alguien al lado en quien sostenernos cuando todo va mal?

[Paolo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Difícil de leer sin cortar el ritmo para entender el contexto de las palabras que usa, lo que obliga a releer para poder disfrutar la “melodía” (no sé cómo describir esto que tienen los poemas que los hace sentir diferente a la narrativa en prosa) de los textos.
Igualmente se disfruta, en especial los capítulos finales (“Masa” es épico).

[İlker Şaguj · Rating 4 out of 5]

Şiir çevirisinde önemli olan iki şey de çeviri yapan kişinin de şair olması yahut iyi bir şiir okuru olması gerekliliğidir. Ayşe Nihal Akbulut'un bu başarılı çevirisinden onun şiiri ne kadar takip ettiğini görmek mümkün. Önemli bir çeviri.

[bianqui *‧.₊˚*੭*ˊᵕˋ੭.* · Rating 3 out of 5]

Así responde el hombre, así, a la muerte,
así mira de frente y escucha de costado,
así el agua, al contrario de la sangre, es de agua,
así el fuego, al revés de la ceniza, alisa sus rumiantes ateridos.

el ritmo de estos poemas al leerlos en voz alta me pareció fascinante

[Romulo · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[SirriCan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perulu üvey abim

[Lis Molina · Rating 2 out of 5]

un poemario con tinte patriótico y un tanto grotesco.

[Diego R. · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Daniela · Rating 2 out of 5]

no entendí

[Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

i was also born on a day when god was sick