Spain, Take This Chalice from Me and Other Poems (Penguin Translated Texts)
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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.
and infatuated with the Soviet experiment, these stories, Manichean as they are, fall into the mold of Social Realism, asking the reader to sympathize with the oppressed and calling for awareness about the injustice that prevailed in Peru and, by extension, in the entire world. In other words, the troubles of the Inca peoples aren’t at center stage. Although focused on himself, his work is linked to four principal loci: the Andean region; Trujillo and Lima; Paris; and the Spanish landscape
Her relevance is fairly insignificant in comparison to the last female figure, who was arguably the most important, in his life. Georgette de Phillipart was the eighteen-year-old daughter of a French concierge. She lived across the street from the Hôtel Richelieu when the poet lived there with Henriette, and he first noticed her while she was sewing. Since he used to make gestures to her from across the street, she thought he was a deaf mute. Later, when she heard him speak, Georgette told her
Francisco Xandóval, and the result is a miscellany of avant-garde efforts mixed with non sequiturs and—why not?—deliberate pranks on the reader. In 1923 Vallejo moved to Paris, with a lawsuit against him based on property damages still pending. Although he contemplated the possibility of returning to his native country, he never did. France, and its capital especially, was for Latin American writers of the first half of the twentieth century el ombligo del mundo, the world’s navel. In his
people, alone, unattached, my human semblance turns and dispatches its shadows one by one. And I move away from it all, because everything is staying behind to provide the alibi: my shoe, its eyelet, also its mud and even the bend at the elbow of my own buttoned up shirt. The city’s magnet, by the way, continued unabated for Latin Americans at least until the sixties. Vallejo felt its allure, as did the authors of “El Boom,” the movement that came about in the sixties and included Gabriel
these poems were left in a more advanced stage than others. There are disagreements among editors about how to organize them. Some are dated but there’s the question of whether the date reflects the time they were written, when they were revised, or another moment when the poet worked on them. Of a handful there are also different versions, written on two or three typewriters. Vallejo could collapse two poems into one or else transform a prose piece into a poem. What we have, in other words, is a