Edwin Sánchez, 18 de enero 2025
Oh, how happy the wicked devil,
hatred prevailing throughout the universe,
hatred in the sea and under the sea;
hatred on solid land and in the wind,
and blood and blood that can come
to splatter the very heavens!
Rubén Darío
I
Rubén Darío, the arduous artist of Truth, would he write a new, corrected, enlarged, inglorious, and even more bloodstained edition of the fatal pages of history?
What would the exalted Poetarchy of Nicaragua do with Rubén in charge?
Would they stubbornly deny the reality of our country to the point of promoting profitable infamy?
We are talking about Salomón de la Selva, José Coronel Urtecho, Pablo Antonio Cuadra, Joaquín Pasos, Carlos Martínez Rivas, Leonel Rugama, Ana Ilce Gómez…
Would those Heroes of the Word and History debase themselves like lesser poets with inferior spirits who rent their verses, tirades and diatribes with the mad aim of prolonging further attacks on Nicaragua, with the nonsense, lacking principles, of “fighting for democracy”?
The boy from Metapa , the Supreme Poetarch, would he kiss the episcopal ring of the bishop who in 2018 founded, de facto, his abominable Personal Prelature of “Saint” Tomás de Torquemada — Patron Saint of Cursed Causes —?
Would he dedicate the Triumphal March to the illustrious Demo(n)cratic, whose earthly profile was revealed in an audio recording of their founder, who entrusted them with the “pastoral mission” of overthrowing the Constitutional Government?:
“All opponents of the government, even if they are suspected of being opportunists, abortionists, homosexuals, drug traffickers… in order to achieve the final goal… ”
For God's sake, will any poet, any sensible troubadour, believe that with such a cast the Paradise of Democracy, which no State in the world has ever achieved, will be built?
The answer, if the poet is a true founder of mutual understanding - because the sword was never greater than letters - is that he will never absolve those who unleashed their cruelty. Nor will he approve what the shameless reprobate glorifies, waving in the poles of his filth the cleanest flags of the people.
He must not.
Rather, he will condemn it.
If it is free of violence, resentment and vileness.
Because a poet or singer was not born to slander and compose “odes” in the service of those whom Rubén called “executioners of ideals”.
He was not born to be a spokesperson for the disgrace of his homeland, for lies and intrigues, with the aftermath of his adjacent bitterness.
He was not born to manipulate the anachronistic degradation of his nation into a Banana Republic.
He was not conceived to destroy anyone's reputation nor to exalt the possessed. Much less to stage the sordid farce of the "drama" of the roadblocks: those elderly people manipulated pathetically. This is how they applauded the depressing spectacle — used by certain resentful vanities as a pretext — to shoot their dissatisfaction from social media, since their “epic dedication” to culture and their “incomparable contributions” have not been “properly recognized”…
However, poetry is made by humans — and sometimes not so human — and if they do not do what is right, as God warned at the dawn of the Adamic race, sin is at the door.
Yes, because “In man exists bad yeast”, as Ruben reaffirmed with the word of Saint Francis of Assisi in The Motives of the Wolf.
And he can also exchange his dubious manhood for hunger.
Or for an everlasting resentment in a side of arrogance of the banana juggling clowns and cracked souls — gossipers, without courage or valor — that the Homeland does not need.
Although it might seem insignificant to some, there is an abyss of the same size as Abaddon’s, separating the good heart beating with love, from the liver that secretes a bilious soul.
Either he marches with Rubén’s ranks or dances to the sway of the filias and phobias of the bestial Belial.
It no coincidence that the lyre carrier exclaims:
Evoke Homer, Vinci, Dante,
so that they see the
cruel spectacle
from beginning to end:
the jaw of the ruminant
in the hand of Cain
on Abel's forehead.
This is what happened and continues to happen when certain "cults" and staffs of darkness that worship Lucifer sing, exalt and sanctify Cain, but hide the jaw of the ruminant, call Abel a murderer, and shelter under a fraudulent cultural-civic-religious robe.
But the crystal-clear conscience of the FIRST POETARCH of Castilian challenges them, because impiety will not stop the Light:
But the mystery will come,
victorious and wrapped in fire,
more formidable than what will be said
by the Indian epic and Greek drama.
And our electric and self-absorbed century,
amidst dazzling flashes,
will see the rise of the One who was announced
by John with the gentle hair.
It is quite true that, as Gerardo Diego wrote, there are verses even for the wicked: himself.
He, who paid tribute not to a poetry collection, but to his entire life in favor of the dictator Francisco Franco, and consented, as an accomplice, to the death of the great Miguel Hernández.
He and Dámaso Alonso, another of the Generation of '27.
Alonso, who forgot the truth, renounced sensitivity and instead, preferred to be a cloud walker without compassion for the poets persecuted to death, and also placed his biography at the foot of the dogmatic-fascist Catholicism of Francoism.
Oh, but there will always be a poet putting things in their place, saving the honor of Poetry, and making the difference between the children of God and the sons of …
Because the poet informs, shapes and does not deform the world more than it already is.
Thus, the great Pablo Neruda assumed the creator’s rectitude, in his earthly poem To Miguel Hernández, assassinated in the prisons of Spain, he attests to where the true Towers of God must stand:
Let those who killed you know they will pay with blood.
Let those who tormented you know they will see me one day.
Let the damned know that today they include your name
in their books, the Damasos, the Gerards, the sons of bitches,
silent accomplices of the executioner,
that your martyrdom will not be erased, and your death
will fall upon their whole moon of cowards.
II
Early in the Revolution of 1979, Comandante Tomás Borge pragmatically defined that in one person, greatness and withering, we might say, their S.A. smallness, bloom.
Thus, the poet who was the Comandante, the writer who was Tomás, the Borge who read Borges, valued the mortal condition, when he praised and placed the celestial lightning rod that was the Poetarch Pablo Antonio Cuadra. Of course, he is not in the verses of the Chilean Sun, as if the shooting star does fit into the History that believes it’s the Milky Way of the left.
Comandante spoke of the great PAC (Pablo Antonio Cuadra).
PAC the playwriter, PAC the narrator, PAC the essayist, PAC of El Nicaragüense, PAC the novella Come back Güegüence! Yes, just as it is spelled with a C as it is read and corresponds, according to Nahuatl phonetics, to the original of the pristine work of our literature.
This was the notable PAC who wrote the essay titled The First Character in Nicaraguan Literature: Güegüence.
It is the illustrious PAC that rhymes with the necessary Ruben’s. “PAX…!”
But there was also a small PAC, according to the greatest of Sandinism prose writer, if we do not take into account the writings, documents and thoughts of General Augusto César Sandino: the ¡pac!, ¡pac!, ¡pac! that distances itself from the marvelous PAC of The peasants go along the path.
However, if we agreed with the guerrilla who once wanted to be a seller of metaphors, this presumed “infimum” pac!, pac!, pac!, would not be typing his Typewritten Writings to celebrate bestiality. For in artistic stature and depth of spirit, Don Pablo surpasses the Dámasos and the Diegos, and more so those who conspire with their “lyrical” pyrrhic words on the pyre they tried to burn Nicaragua with.
No horrendous act is worthy of a line from Cervantes, Victor Hugo or the young Poetarch Leonel Rugama, except for the militant condemnation that resonates well in the Cervantine language:
That bishops are made of men, not stones.”
Or in the French of the strong:
Rosbach! Waterloo! Vengeance!
The man was drunk with madness,
he only has intelligence
for evil and slaughter.
We gather and unite, and we are called upon by Eduardo Galeano, who feels desolation over barbarism, a term that defines the oldest evil that inhabits even the ill-fated joy of the bearers of devastation, with the aim of sinking the families of Nicaragua into disgrace:
“The poet Juan Gelman writes, rising above his own ruins, above his dust and his trash.
“The Argentine military, whose atrocities would have given Hitler an incurable inferiority complex, struck where it hurts most. In 1976, they kidnapped his children. They took them instead of him. They tortured and released his daughter, Nora. They murdered and disappeared his son, Marcelo, and his pregnant wife.”
Such a monstrosity against the poet's family is of the same sinister nature as the fascists protected by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights and the UN, both instrumentalized by South Americans with no piety: Luis Almagro, Pablo Abrao, Antonia Urrejola and Michelle Bachelet.
The victims were not relatives of the poet Gelman, but the perpetrators belonged to the same criminal school as the terrifying Argentine gorillas.
And one night they kidnapped and savagely killed the son, and the next night, ten days later, they murdered the father who was desperately searching for his firstborn, after unspeakable tortures.
These lives were worth nothing to the OAS and the UN, whose missions had not landed in Managua when they were already came pregnant with "updated" slanders and false testimonies, inseminated with the copy pages of inaccuracies prefabricated by local human rights merchants.
From these “data” spun by the inventors of evils, arise the “mountains of corpses” that the scribes of Pharisaism “versify” without any shame.
They are the ones who, under the romantic shadow of the Sandinista Revolution that became too big for them, “dramatically” tear their robes of Caiaphas.
However, writer and Vice President Rosario Murillo, testified on July 5, 2022, the horror of 2018:
"We are also here remembering with our hearts still raw, because we cannot forget our dead, our hearts are raw, but they are vigorous hearts that move forward as we said, transcending human misery. Roberto Castillo was murdered by the coup terrorism in the death roadblocks in Jinotepe, Carazo, 10 days after the hate, the murderous coup, the coup terrorism, murdered his son Cristofer Castillo."
III
If Carlos Martínez Rivas was moved by the misfortune of children, as we read in his verses:
Children from India or Africa,
who are nothing but bones and bellies.
The bellies full of hunger of which
Leonel Rugama spoke.
If the Poetarch also felt in his chest the cataclysms caused by the greed of the ephemeral:
A man with a dry crust of bread
in Eritrea under the bombings.
A girl being treated in emergency in war
surgery, anesthetized, not asleep,
with rubber tubes in her little nose.
In Haiti, during the famine
of 1975, a child, as if carved in
wood of such squalid;
and that girl from Vietnam,
the one running naked and burned
on the asphalt road.
If he was capable of being moved by avoidable tragedies thousands of miles away from Nicaragua, would the poet remain silent in the face of the suffering, the violations of human rights and the dismemberment of Bismark Martínez in the San José roadblock in Jinotepe?
How, and with what nerve, could the murders committed by individuals financed from abroad to set fire "democratically", to a two-story house in the capital's "Carlos Marx" neighborhood, with the entire family inside, and then blame the National Police, be concealed?
How could it not hurt that Gabriel de Jesús Vado, 22 years old and unarmed, was burned alive in the Mebasa roadblock in Masaya, where a priest from the aforementioned Prelature to ordered his infernal acolytes to stoke the medieval bonfire?
Is it possible that a Christian soul would endorse, praise, sing and write poems for all that Goebbelsian narrative that the murderers at the roadblocks of hell were angels, and the Sandinistas and the people who rejected violence were the “demons”?
A bloody coup attempt was sugarcoated, presented as a “student rebellion”, a “beautiful tropical spring”, a “fight for the rule of law”…
The saints of the Prelature of “Saint” Tomás de Torquemada even said, “we all want to shoot the President,” and since they were not able to do so, they “blessed” the “brilliant” roadblocks where they increased the sadism of the Holy Office Tribunal in the 21st century.
Of course, when the Constitutional Government dismantled all the roadblocks where human sacrifices were being made, and did not allow the witches’ sabbaths under the liturgical canopy, the Devil, through his servants, accused Nicaragua of “religious persecution.”
Neither Carlos Martínez Rivas, nor PAC, nor Leonel, would have remain silent about the nefarious actions of the arsonists descended from the pyromaniac, filibuster, and mercenary Charles Frederick Henningsen, who spread terror in the beautiful port city, the oldest in the continent, to the point of signing the ominous Here was Granada.
Would PAC of SINGING OF GRANADA AND THE SEA, have facilitated the gasoline for the media hatred to destroy his beloved colonial muse?
Granada, beautiful Granada
trapped between streams!
Merchant and navigator
made you with love and sea:
one half for the dream,
another to navigate.
Granada, white Granada
of sun and clay.
Thank God PAC no longer saw that, what the 'heroes' of the Banana Anti-Culture: Here was Nicaragua tried to do, but on a much larger scale.
And about this, nothing is said, nothing is written, nothing is declared or clarified by those who, without a heart, used the ladle to serve themselves rivers of milk and honey from July 1979 to April 1990, only to later emerge in Europe branded as “pure Sandinistas”. On the contrary, they have passed off as poetry the poisoned praises of the most inhumane things Nicaragua has suffered during those three months.
By ignoring the fires set by Henningsen's emissaries against radio stations Ya and Nicaragua, with journalists, announcers and administrative staff inside, they only demonstrate a lack of humanity and an excess of hatred, reinforced by a resentment of unknown depth among men and women of good will.
But the minstrel — Fernando Gordillo, Ricardo Morales Avilés, Camilo Zapata, Otto de la Rocha, Pablo Martínez Téllez, Ofilio Picón — is made of truths, not of arrogance, blind hatred and inflated egos which, in the absence of creativity and imagination, leads them to dress up brutality, which comes with the bloody ambition to seizing power through destruction, as the defense of civic space.
To possess the feelings of Rubén is to be in tune with the celestial fibers of the one who fears and respects God. That is why we see no other description as vivid and current of the visceral host that tried to break the constitutional order of Nicaragua, than the one that the Apostle Paul gave to the Corinthians:
“Furthermore, just as they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, so God gave them over to a depraved mind, so that they do what ought not to be done: evil, greed and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they have no understanding, no fidelity, no love, no mercy.”
Ruben would never overlook the butchery carried out by
The cannibal (who) covets his jerky
with red gums and sharp teeth.
Who thus exhorts the poets and troubadours:
Towers, put up the pavilion smile.
Put before that evil and that mistrust
A proud hint of breeze
and a tranquility of sea and sky...
And he would denounce those who invoke the devastation of our land made of vigor and glory.
Because you are the poet, the singer and the prophet …
A No to all the anachronistic Knox Notes!
“Soul in soul, hand in hand”:
“Pax …!”
And above all, God.
Since you already knew Who holds the final victory.
That war is hell, it is true;
It is true that a wolf sleeps
in the fatal soul of the Adamid;
but Jesus Christ is not dead,
and against murder, hatred, theft,
He is the Light, the Way and the Life…!