Diario de un poeta recien casado

Within the larger trajectory of Juan Ramón Jiménez’s (JRJ) poetry, Diario de un poeta recién casado marks a significant shift from a modernist, ‘fin de siglo’ poetics to one that is outside of all tradition; as Javier Blasco states, “se sitúa con este libro fuera de toda tradición…en su momento, causó un desconcierto…fue y sigue siendo un libro adánico en muchos aspectos” (italics mine). Some of the novel aspects of this book include the rupture between prose and verse and the diversity in tonal registers (from pure lyricism to irony); it is written in free verse without opulent use of adjectives (a contrast with modernismo) in a metaphysical exploration of language that could be seen to rival Huidobro’s creacionismo. Blasco does not locate the intention to be one of novelty for novelty’s sake, but rather “el hacerse paso a paso de una conciencia, en un continuo preguntarse por la realidad profunda q hay detrás de las cosas” and a “nueva intuición generadora del poema”. JRJ moves from a stripping of down language to an encounter with modernity, machines, highly industrialized New York and irrational images that Lorca later picks up in Poeta en Nueva York. What coincide with this metaphysical and linguistic preoccupation are his travels; the catalyst for his social concern is the encounter with hyper-modernity in urban New York.

The structure of this book follows the path of JRJ’s travel, beginning in “Soledad” with el mar and the constant flow of its waves as a metaphor for the constant flow and dynamism of the poetic yo’s conscience. “En ti estás todo, mar, y sin embargo, ¡qué sin ti estás, qué solo,/qué lejos, siempre, de ti mismo!” This image reflects an out of body feeling and the distancing between an essential self and the knowing of the self. The verse, “tus olas van como mis pensamientos”, exemplifies the tides of thoughts in the conscience that lead to “un eterno conocerse,/mar, y desconocerse.” The first line of the final stanza of this brief poem sums up the struggle: “Eres tú, y no lo sabes”. It is beautiful in its simplicity, and yet the sentiment of self-alienation and solitude (evidenced in the title and final words, “mar solo”) reveals a feeling of anguish in the poetic yo. In terms of narrative, JRJ is crossing the sea to America and is embarking upon a trip of self-discovery. The second poem of this first section emphasizes the word nada and the burying of this word “como un cadáver de palabras/que se tendiera en su sepulcro/natural…¡Nada!.” Here JRJ transmits a feeling of emptiness of being, and the focus on the word speaks to the linguistic innovation and renovation that JRJ is engaging in. “Cielo” is an important poem in the transformational qualities of language and the word; the poem is directed at cielo and the poet’s tired eyes admit to having forgotten cielo (“sin nombre”) and its vague existence. But once he retrains and refocuses his gaze, things change. “Hoy te he mirado lentamente,/y te has ido elevando hasta tu nombre.” The sky has been transformed from a nebulous existence to an elevated one, contingent on its name. In the second section, we see how the importance of the name and the essence of the thing coincide as the poetic yo reaches América del este and encounters the sky. “Como tu nombre es otro,/cielo, y su sentimiento/no es mío, aún, aún no eres cielo.” The poet has to submit to a process of knowing and discovery to learn its name and essence. This makes me think of Huidobro’s suggestion that one should always write poetry in a foreign language.

From this adventure of self-discovery, the reader is suddenly shocked by a change in form (reportaje) and the plunge into modernity, complete with its earthly ties. It’s as if the poet has taken us from the interior self and the sky, and planted us directly into melancholic (and barren) Boston and New York. The only marker of location in “Túnel ciudadano” is actually in the description. “Boston, Hotel Somerset,/ 14 de marzo, tarde, después de un día cansado.” As a purely biographical note, this is how the poet must have felt upon finally arriving to America. After such a time on the sea and in isolation from most of humanity, to suddenly arrive in an urban city covered in soot and snow would be quite an epiphany. The dominating sensation in this report on the tunnel to humanity and the city is the color black: black snow, black dried-out trees, black skies (from the murderous smoke of the trains without end), black bridges, black tunnels. “Nada da la sensación de que en parte alguna…haya vida con pensamientos y sentimientos de colores, con sentidos corporales…Todo es confuso, difuso, monótono, seco, frío y sucio a un tiempo, negro y blanco, es decir, negro, sin hora ni contajio.” In other words, everything feels dead to the senses and to the mind. Monotony and ‘sin tregua’, which is mentioned earlier regarding the trains’ smoke emissions, are terms that relate to machinery’s ability to consistently reproduce the same event and the lack of humanity in such an action. We are much more limited from capably reproducing the same movement at the same rhythm; machines are not. Industrialization entails a certain degree of dehumanization.

The next step is on to New York in “Sueño en el tren…no en el lecho”, dreaming of the goodbye at the train station platform waving to someone, no one, ah yes: “era alguien que me esperaba en la estación y me abrazaba riendo, riendo, riendo, mujer primavera…” Spring has embraced our narrator and come along for the ride to the city. Here the contrast between city and nature is explicit. Here the move from calling the train a ‘caballo vencedor’ to ‘caballo negro’ demonstrates a problematizing of industrial advancement. Also, the colors of those saying goodbye, “los pañuelos blancos, los sombreros de paja, las sombrillas verdes, moradas, canelas…”, contrast with the arrival to the urban monotony and black which permeated the previous report. The poems that follow detail various ventures throughout the city and the experiences or thoughts of our narrator. In “Iglesias”, churches are compared to window shopping. “Pesadilla de olores” evokes the nightmarish bad smells walking through the poor barrios. “Es como si en un trust de males olores, todos estos pobres que aquí viven –chinos, irlandeses, judíos, negros--, juntasen en su sueño miserable sus pesadillas de hambre, harapo y desprecio, y ese sueño tomara vida y fuera verdugo de esta ciudad mejor.” What stands out is not only the sympathy towards the poor, oppressed groups or the image of their worst dreams being realized, but this last line about how the plight of the poor has become the albatross around the neck of ‘esta ciudad mejor’. In Poeta en Nueva York the denouncement of the city is rather complete, but here there is the belief that a better city lies beneath this pathetic exterior reality. The emphasis on dreams evokes another consciousness and sublevel reality. I don’t know how to interpret the woman’s role as primavera, except as her role as life-giver. “Fuego” is a comical interpretation on the abundance of fire escapes throughout New York, to the extreme that the narrator asks if this was the point of building New York, in order to save it from fire. Herein there is an incorporation of the conflicting tensions between an industrialization that suppresses nature and an attraction towards urban life. “La primavera asalta las escaleras de hierro…Yo quiero tener en mi casa la primavera, sin posibilidad de salida. ¡Prefiero quemarme vivo, os lo aseguro!” This dramatic declaration is followed by two succinct, bare poems in which the coming of la primavera is announced. “ ¿Sencillo?/ Las palabras/verdaderas;/lo justo para que ella, sonriendo/entre sus rosas puras de hoy,/lo comprenda./Con un azul, un blanco, un verde/--justos--,/se hace --¿no ves?—la primavera.” The hailing of the coming of the spring takes place in “¡Viva la primavera!, which is how this poem ends, with three times the declaration of spring. The battle between the machines and nature has been fought, and spring has broken through.

• “Deshora” and “La luna” are two examples of the irrational imagery approaching surrealism that Lorca employs in Poeta en NY.

• Important quote to remember, which details how JRJ was influential to varying paths of vanguardia: “Nacen dos corrientes fundamentales de poesía posterior: la q vengo llamando el hodiernismo poético q culminará en Cántico; y la q prepara la semántica irracional q culminará en Poeta en NY…, las realizaciones estéticas del 27 más opuestas y significativas de la literatura de los años de entreguerras” (Juan Manuel Rozas).