Poets and Poems: Rhina Espaillat and "For Instance"

Poetry is often associated with the young. We think of the fire of the Romantics, or the young T.S. Eliot upending traditional poetry with modernism with The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. But even younger poets age, banking the fire and passion as they become tempered by experience and understanding. 

Two of my favorite contemporary poets are Luci Shaw (1928-2025) and Rhina Espaillat (b. 1932). It’s something of a coincidence, or perhaps it isn’t, that both reached their 90s. Shaw died last December, just shy of her 95^th birthday. Espaillat tuns 94 this year. Theirs is not the poetry of youth but instead the poetry of long lives lived – and lived well. It’s also the poetry of understanding and affection for people, in all our wild and crazy humanity.

 

For Instance, the new poetry collection by Espaillat, demonstrates this understanding and affection. 

Some Tuesday Readings

 

Coleridge’s Greek Ode: ‘Against the Slave Trade’ (1792) – Adam Roberts at Substack-ships On Fire, Off the Shoulder of Orion. 

 

Just Beyond Yourself – poem by David Whyte.

 

What is a Simile? – L.L. Barkat at Tweetspeak Poetry.

 

Come, night, come, Romeo – poem by William Shakespeare at Every Day Poems.

 

“The Life of Man,” poem by Francis Bacon – Joseph Bottum at Poems Ancient & Modern.

 

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz – The 17th Century Poet (and Nun)

Reading about the life of Sor (Sister) Juana Inés de la Cruz (ca. 1650-1695) brings to mind the old, old adage of “the irresistible force meets the immoveable object.” The immoveable object was the culture of 17^th century Baroque society of New Spain (Mexico). The irresistible force was a young woman’s love of learning and her writing. Something would eventually have to give, and, eventually, something did. 

A new translation of 23 of her poems, The Liquid Pour in which my Heart has Run, has been published by Rhina Espaillat, herself a poet. It’s a small but representative sample of Juana Inés’s poetry

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Some Tuesday Readings

 

Poetry Club: Notebook It – Tweetspeak Poetry.

 

Four notes only – poem by Megan Willome at The Clayjar Review.

 

“The Weary Blues,” poem by Langston Hughes – Joseph Bottum at Poems Ancient and Modern.

 

A Conversation with Angela Alaimo O’Donnell – Ben Palpant at Rabbit Room Poetry.

 

The Voice of This Calling: The Enduring Legacy of T.S. Eliot – Clint Brand at The Imaginative Conservative. 

“The Spring That Feeds the Torrent: Poems” by St. John of the Cross

St. John of the Cross (1542-1591) was a Catholic priest, a mystic, a friar, a prisoner, a friend of St. Teresa of Avila, and a poet. It is poetry, in fact, that he’s best remembered for – mystical, almost ecstatic meditations with, by, and for God. 

He was born Juan de Yepes y Alvarez near the town of Avila in Spain. He came from an impoverished family, with his father disowned and his mother from the lower class. His early years were marked by family deaths – his father and an older brother. His mother took him and his surviving brother on several journeys to find work. Eventually, Juan entered a school for poor children and later studied humanities under a relatively new order called the Jesuits. 

 

In 1563, he joined the Carmelite order. He was ordained a priest in 1567 and that year met Teresa of Avila, a reformer seeking to return the Carmelites to its original rule. A few years later, he experienced his vision of Christ on the cross and drew a picture of what he’d seen (which would eventually inspire Salvador Dali). The Carmelites were not happy with the reforms of Teresa and John, and in late 1577 he was arrested (essentially kidnapped), taken to Toledo, tried before a court of friars, and sentenced to imprisonment in extremely harsh conditions. He escaped, despite being in poor health. The pope would eventually approve a division of the Carmelites into “old” and “reformed.” John became one of the key leaders of the reformed Carmelites. He died in 1591, was beatified in 1675, and canonized in 1726.

 

His poetry, much of which was written during his imprisonment on paper smuggled in by a guard, is something of a personal odyssey, the sinner in search of God. Rhina Espaillat, translator of The Spring That Feeds the Torrent: Poems by St. John of the Cross, explains: “The theme is the need of the living presence of God, and the lengths to which the soul bereft of that company will go in order to find Him.”

 

Rhina Espaillat

Espaillat is ideally suited for the translation from the original Spanish into English. She is well known for her English-to-Spanish translations of the poetry of Robert Frost and Richard Wilbur and her own poetry chapbooks, essays, and short stories. She’s won many international awards for her work, including the T.S. Eliot Prize in Poetry, the Richard Wilbur Award, the Howard Nemerov Prize, and the May Sarton Award, among others.

 

She says she first read the poems of St. John of the Cross in childhood, and the poems stuck. It’s easy to see why. St. John of the Cross may be a mystic, but, at least in translation, he was a mystic who wrote in very accessible language. His best- known poem is “The Dark Night of the Soul,” describing the soul’s search for light. Here are the first three stanzas of that eight-stanza poem, as translated by Espaillat:

 

One darkest night I went,

Aflame with love’s devouring eager burning—

O delirious event!—

No witnesses discerning,

The house now still from which my steps were turning.

 

Hidden by darkness, bent

on flight, disguised, down secret steps sojourning—

O delirious event!—

Hidden by dark, and yearning,

The house now still from which my steps were turning;

 

In that most blissful night,

in secrecy, since none had seen my going,

nor did I pause for sight,

nor had I light, for showing

the route, but that which in my heart was glowing.

 

The Spring That Feeds the Torrent opens a window, and a door, both a time of religious upheaval and an individual’s search for God. These poems open into the heart of St. John of the Cross, and the humility and simplicity of what we find there is appealing in any age.

 

Top illustration: St. John of the Cross, painting by Francisco de Zurbaran (1598-1664). 

 

Some Monday Readings

 

The Weirdness of Ambrose Bierce: From “Owl Creek Bridge” to Horror and Satire – Anthony Aycock at Reactor Magazine. 

 

What’s My Point? Consider the Pencil – Joel Miller at Miller’s Bok Review.

 

The Prophets: Allan Bloom – Thomas Chatterton Williams at The Free Press.

 

The War on Citizenship – Michael Lind at Tablet Magazine.

 

Puzzle – artwork by Sonja Benskin Mesher.

Poets and Poems: Rhina Espaillat and “And After All”

Rafael Trujillo is a name long forgotten today, but he ruled the Dominican Republic as dictator for more than three decades, from 1930 to 1961. His was a bloody, vicious regime, and he exported violence to Haiti, Venezuela, Mexico, and even the United States via assassinations of his political enemies. Two years into his rule, Rhina Espaillat was born (1932), A few short years later, her great-uncle opposed the regime, and the entire family was exiled. They settled in New York City.

Espaillat began writing poetry as a young girl, and she wrote in both Spanish and English. She’s still writing today poetry today, and her most recent collection is And After All: Poems. Nothing in the work indicates a connection to Trujillo, but one can’t help but think that the experiences of life under a dictator followed by exile can’t help but affect what a poet writes, including a focus on what’s inside as opposed to what’s visible for all to see.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.