LITTLE GREAT MAN, GREAT POET

Today is the feast of that truly awesome small humble man Juan de la Cruz -- St John of the Cross -- who had the alarming experience of being befriended, and roped in, by St Teresa of Avila. He was a true mystic, a man of extreme devotion (a practice as rare as extreme mountaineering), and a very great poet. Here is his most famous poem, in an English translation:

On a dark night, 
Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–
I went forth without being observed, 
My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure, 
By the secret ladder, disguised–--oh, happy chance!–
In darkness and in concealment, 
My house being now at rest.

In the happy night, 
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught, 
Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.

This light guided me 
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me–
A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me, 
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, 
Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast, 
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, 
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret 
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck 
And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion; 
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself, 
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.

And here it is in the original Spanish:

1. En una noche oscura
con ansias, en amores inflamada,
¡oh dichosa ventura!
salí sin ser notada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada.

2. A oscuras, y segura,
por la secreta escala disfrazada,
¡Oh dichosa ventura!
a oscuras, y en celada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada.

3. En la noche dichosa
en secreto, que nadie me veía,
ni yo miraba cosa,
sin otra luz y guía,
sino la que en el corazón ardía.

4. Aquésta me guiaba
más cierto que la luz del mediodía,
adonde me esperaba
quien yo bien me sabía,
en parte donde nadie parecía.

5. ¡Oh noche que guiaste!
¡Oh noche amable más que la alborada:
oh noche que juntaste
Amado con Amada.
Amada en el Amado transformada!

6. En mi pecho florido,
que entero para él sólo se guardaba,
allí quedó dormido,
y yo le regalaba,
y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.

7. El aire de la almena,
cuando yo sus cabellos esparcía,
con su mano serena
en mi cuello hería,
y todos mis sentidos suspendía.

8. Quedéme, y olvidéme,
el rostro recliné sobre el Amado,
cesó todo, y dejéme,
dejando mi cuidado
entre las azucenas olvidado.

A DOUGHTY CHARMER

Today is the feast of St Teresa of Avila, that redoubtable organiser and absolute mystic -- an unusual combination at any time -- who died in the early hours of the first day of the Gregorian Calendar, October 15, 1582, which followed directly upon October 4. The most authentic portrait of her is the one above, a copy of a 1576 portrait, when she was 61. A solid Spanish face, quite different from what Kenneth Clark called the 'swooning beauty' in Bernini's virtuoso Ecstasy of St Teresa. She hauled St John of the Cross out of his monastery to help her found a Carmelite house for men, and herself founded seventeen convents. The Wikipedia article on her is crisply informative, but the short biography by Terry Matz in Catholic Online is more human and more charming. Readers of English poetry may remember Richard Crashaw's wonderfully strange poem in her honour. But the best way to get to know her is to read her masterpiece, The Interior Castle or the Mansions. To adapt what Victor Borge said about Mozart: 'When Teresa was my age, she had been dead for seven years. It makes you realise how little you've accomplished.'

After her death, a card was found in the pages of her breviary, on which she had written the prayer that has since become known as 'St Teresa's Bookmark':

Nada te turbe,

nada te espante;

todo se pasa,

Dios no se muda.

La pacientia todo lo alcanza.

Quien a Dios tiene nada la falta:

solo Dios basta.

Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing dismay you,

All things pass,

God never changes.

Patience attains all.

He who has God lacks nothing:

God alone suffices.

DEEP IN THE DARK, A FLAME

Today is the feast of Juan de Yepes y Alvarez, better known as St John of the Cross. It is the day of his death, of erysipelas, in 1591 at the age of 49, in an obscure monastery in Southern Spain. From an impoverished family, he had taken orders and thus been able to go to the famous University of Salamanca. Quiet, studious and above all given to meditation and prayer, he got taken up by the walking tornado that was Teresa of Avila and drawn into the wasps' nest of Carmelite reform, which led to imprisonment, torture, periods of exile, and indirectly to his death. However, he was also one of God's, and Spain's, great poets. In an age that had rediscovered mysticism and meditation -- the age of Ignatius of Loyola and of Teresa -- he was the most ardent of them all. To us the language of such mysticism is so unfamiliar that it makes us go over all funny and escape into theories of erotic sublimation. What makes it peculiar is the imaging, the "notable prosopopoeias" as Sidney called them, that takes the experience of God's love and, so far from seeing it as a commandment or order, show it as something of which the most total of earthly passions is only the palest reflection. There are "extreme sports"; this is extreme religion. It is not for the faint-hearted or for the soapy-souled. When reading it -- as when reading the Song of Songs -- one has constantly to force oneself to realize that this, like a sacrament, is an "outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace". It makes one feel like the clumsiest beginner on a local climbing wall watching Royal Robbins soloing the 3,000 feet of El Capitan in 1968. Crazy; but sublime. Here are two of St John's most famous poems, in Spanish and English, because it is worth at least mouthing them in the Spanish to get the feel of the climb.

EN UNA NOCHE OSCURA

En una noche oscura                                        On a dark night
con ansias en amores inflamada                       With long and burning love
¡oh dichosa ventura!                                         -- oh, happy chance! --
salí sin ser notada                                             I went out without being observed
estando ya mi casa sosegada,                           for my house was already at rest,

a oscuras y segura                                            in darkness and secure,
por la secreta escala disfrazada,                        by the secret hidden ladder
¡oh dichosa ventura!                                         -- oh, happy chance! --
a oscuras y en celada                                        in darkness and hidden
estando ya mi casa sosegada.                           for my house was already at rest.

En la noche dichosa                                         In the happy night
en secreto que nadie me veía                            in secret, that no one saw me
ni yo miraba cosa                                             nor did I behold anything
sin otra luz y guía                                             with no other light nor guide
sino la que en el corazón ardía.                        that that which burned within my heart. 

Aquesta me guiaba                                           This guided me
más cierto que la luz del mediodía                    more surely than the light of noonday
adonde me esperaba                                          to where awaited me
quien yo bien me sabía                                     whom I knew so well already
en sitio donde nadie aparecía.                           in a place where no one came.

¡Oh noche, que guiaste!                                    Oh, night that guided me!
¡Oh noche amable más que la alborada!           Oh, night more lovely than the dawn!
¡Oh noche que juntaste                                     Oh, night that joined together
amado con amada,                                            Lover and beloved,
amada en el amado transformada!                     beloved into Lover changed!

En mi pecho florido,                                          In my breast that bloomed,
que entero para él solo se guardaba                   that He kept for His own,
allí quedó dormido                                             there He stayed, asleep,
y yo le regalaba                                                  and I gave Him what I could
y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.                       and the fanning of the cedars gave a breeze.

El aire de la almena                                           The breeze from the battlements
cuando yo sus cabellos esparcía                        winnowed His hair
con su mano serena                                           with its serene hand
y en mi cuello hería                                           and wounded me in the neck
y todos mis sentidos suspendía.                         and all my senses stilled.

Quedéme y olvidéme                                        I stayed, lost in oblivion,
el rostro recliné sobre el amado;                       my face reclined on my Lover;
cesó todo, y dejéme                                          all things ceased, and I abandoned myself
dejando mi cuidado                                          abandoning my care,
entre las azucenas olvidado.                             forgotten among the lilies.



OH LLAMA DE AMOR VIVA

¡Oh llama de amor viva,                                    Oh living flame of love
que tiernamente hieres                                       how tenderly You wound me
de mi alma en el más profundo centro!              in the deepest centre of my soul!
pues ya no eres esquiva,                                    Since now You are not aloof,
acaba ya si quieres;                                            complete it if You wish;
rompe la tela de este dulce encuentro.               and tear the veil of this our sweet encounter.

¡Oh cauterio suave!                                           Exquisite cautery!
¡Oh regalada llaga!                                            Oh wound given as a gift!
¡Oh mano blanda! ¡Oh toque delicado,             Oh hand so white! Oh touch so delicate,
que a vida eterna sabe                                        that something has of life eternal
y toda deuda paga!,                                            and every debt redeems!
matando muerte en vida la has trocado.             killing Death, You've changed it into life. 

¡Oh lámparas de fuego                                       Oh lamps of living fire
en cuyos resplandores                                        in the radiance of whose flame
las profundas cavernas del sentido                     the deepest caves of sense  
que estaba oscuro y ciego                                  that was dark and blind
con extraños primores                                        now give, with strangest skill,
calor y luz dan junto a su querido!                     to the beloved heat and light together!

¡Cuán manso y amoroso                                     How calmly and how loving
recuerdas en mi seno                                          You recall(?) in my breast
donde secretamente solo moras                          where secretly You dwell alone
y en tu aspirar sabroso                                        and in Your fragrant breathing
de bien y gloria lleno                                          with good and glory filled
cuán delicadamente me enamoras!                     how exquisitely You make me love You!

The seriously curious thing is that in Latin languages you can't be fuzzy about sex/gender; and in the first poem the "I" is consistently written in the feminine. Is it that for Juan the "I" is his soul (alma - F.)? Or does he become submissive like a woman to this Divinity?