Jose Santos Chocano

Jose Santos Chocano Poems

Jose Santos Chocano Biography

José Santos Chocano Gastañodi (Lima, Perú born May 14, 1875 – Santiago, d. Chile July 13, 1934) was a Peruvian poet who is also known as "The Singer of Americas", because the first line of one of his most celebrated poems: "I am the singer of the America, Autochthonous and Savage"" (" Yo soy el Cantor de América, autóctono y salvaje", from the poem "Blasón" in Alma América). In the early twentieth century his fame stretched through the continent and even to Madrid and Paris. One of his best-known collections is the 1906 Alma América, which opened with a dedicatory poem addressed to Alfonso XIII of Spain that cast the collection as the rediscovery of Latin America through verse; elsewhere in the collection. Chocano's life was highly active and covered a wide range of places and times. He was admitted to the National University of San Marcos at the early age of 14 years old[1] After a short term in jail for political activism, he relocated to Madrid in the early 1900s. In this city his poems were first recognized by the Spanish literary and artistic circles; many notable artist and writers invited him to recite his poems at their reunions. This allowed Chocano to interact with prominent Spanish and Latin American intellectuals and artist such as: Juan Gris, who become known by this pseudonym incidentally by signing his the series of modernist style illustrations that he created for Chocano's books entitled Alma América and Poemas Indoespañoles (Soul America: Indo-Spanish poems) in 1906 [2].; Miguel de Unamuno, who wrote the prologue for his book "Soul America"; Marcelino Menéndez y Pelayo, and Rubén Darío and thus his name reached a prominent status not only in Spain, but in France and all over Latin America. His 1906 poetry collection, Soul America, was offered and taken as a "New World" corrective to the purportedly cosmopolitan modernismo of Ruben Darío. Chocano as a sophisticated writer, whose metrics and creativity was sought by many statesmen, who contracted his services as a writer and adviser for many years, thus Chocano worked for different regimes and traveled a decade and a half through Latin and Central America, where he thanks to his status as a prominent and skillful writer, befriended an astonishing variety of political figures from different points on the ideological spectrum, such as: Pancho Villa in Mexico, Manuel Estrada Cabrera in Guatemala, and evenly Woodrow Wilson in the USA, with whom he struck up a correspondence [3]. After the coup which deposed Estrada Cabrera in 1920, Chocano was briefly imprisoned, and subsequently returned to Peru, where he became associated with President Augusto B. Leguía. On November 5, 1922, Chocano was recognized by the government of Peru as a most notable poet of Peru, he was laureated as "The Poet of America" in a ceremony featuring Leguia himself, various ministers, delegates from all the provinces of Peru, and a number of young and established writers. Three years later, Chocano became embroiled in a dispute with Mexican intellectual José Vasconcelos; when Peruvian students sided with Vasconcelos, Chocano phoned the journalist Edwin Elmore to complain about his recent article on the polemic; insults and threats quickly followed. Elmore dashed off an article detailing Chocano's attack on him, and hurried to his office at the newspaper "El Comercio" to insert it. Unfortunately, as Elmore left the building, Chocano arrived at it, and after Elmore slapped Chocano, the latter pulled a gun and shot the young journalist in the stomach. Elmore died soon after. Released after two years in jail, Chocano moved to Santiago de Chile, where he lived in dire poverty while preparing a new collection of poetry, Primicias de Oro de Indias. He was stabbed to death on a streetcar in 1934; reports are divided as to whether his assassin was a stranger, a madman, or a rival in a love affair.)

The Best Poem Of Jose Santos Chocano

La Tristeza Del Inca

Este era un Inca triste de soñadora frente,
ojos siempre dormidos y sonrisa de hiel,
que recorrió su imperio buscando inútilmente
a una doncella hermosa y enamorada de él.

Por distraer sus penas, el Inca dio en guerrero,
puso a su tropa en marcha y el broquel requirió:
fue dejando despojos sobre cada sendero,
y las nieves más altas con su sangre manchó.

Tal sus flechas cruzaron invioladas regiones,
en que apenas los ríos se atrevían a entrar,
y tal fue derramando sus heroicas legiones,
de la selva a los Andes, de los Andes al mar.

Fue gastando las flechas que tenía en su aljaba,
una vez y otra y otra, de región en región;
por que cuando salía victorioso lograba
levantar la cabeza, pero no el corazón.

Y cansado de sólo levantar la cabeza,
celebró bailes magnos y banquetes sin fin;
pero no logró nada disipar su tristeza,
ni la sangre del choque, ni el licor del festín.

Nadie entraba en el fondo de su espíritu oculto,
ni sus cándidas ñustas de dinástico rol.
Ni las sires de Quito consagradas al culto,
ni del Cuzco tampoco las bestales del sol.

Fue llamado el más viejo sacerdote. Adivina
este mal que me queja y el remedio del mal,
dijo al gran sacerdote, con voz trémula y fina,
aquel joven monarca displicente y sensual,
“!hay¡ señor... dijo el viejo sacerdote... tus penas
remediarse no pueden. Tu pasión es mortal.
La mujer que has ideado tiene añil en las venas,
un trigal en los bucles y en la boca un coral.”

!hay¡ señor: cierto día vendrán hombres muy blancos
ha de oírse en los bosques el marcial caracol,
cataratas de sangre colmarán los barrancos;
y entrarán otros dioses en el templo del sol.

La mujer que has ideado, pertenece a tal raza,
vanamente la buscas en tu innúmera grey;
Y servirte no pueden oración ni amenaza,
por que tiene otra sangre, otro dios y otro rey.

Cuando el rito sagrado le mandó, optar esposa,
hizo astillas el cetro con vibrante dolor;
y aquel joven monarca se enterró en una fosa,
y pensando en la rubia fue muriendo de amor.

Castellana: Tú ignoras todo el mal queme has hecho.
Castellana. Recuerda que nací en el Perú.
La tristeza del Inca va llenando mi pecho;
Y quién sabe... quién sabe si la rubia eres tú

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