Translated to English by Richard Gabela on April 14, 2024, from the original work “La voz del río” by Wenceslao Pareja (1880-1947) of Guayaquil, Ecuador. I have translated the title of the poem as “The River’s Voice.”
THE RIVER’S VOICE
The River’s voice is slow, the River’s voice is grave,
the bearded Patriarch knows ancient tales.
In the resonance of its coarse tones,
there are echoes of storms and the howling of winds,
and voices from distant mountains’ snows;
in crystal springs and dark marshes,
the water that was once cloud and the water that was once ice,
secretly share their nostalgia for the skies.
It carries melodies from the virgin forest
and the desperate cries from steep ravines;
it has wept in waterfalls and thundered in torrents,
sending forth into the streams its strident song;
it has captured the fragrances of blossoming fields
and lulled the dreams of sleeping nymphs;
it accompanies the songs of melodious birds,
in the victorious hymns of majestic dawns;
it mirrors the heavens’ radiance on its waves,
and slithers through valleys like a silver serpent,
and, as its evening light dims, its majestic decorum
becomes a symphony of lights, blood, and gold.
I worship you, O mighty River, wild and fierce,
radiant and buoyant, or relentless and dark,
for you embody strength, for you carry grace,
for nothing can halt your bold course;
you topple hills and shatter stone,
and you assail the mountains and pierce the rocks;
you nourish the fields in your floods,
and you sweep the weeds in gentle alluvions,
and, in a turbid vortex, with a singular intent,
clay mingles with native gold…
Mighty current that sweeps the earth
to distant backwaters to form new islands,
with the grand symphony of your long journey,
you sing the saga of human destiny;
as water in the valley follows the human spirit,
tirelessly seeking the ocean’s vast expanse;
the race of the strong forges its path
with constant drive, just as water does its work,
and, in its blind course, conquers all;
yet there are cliffs of rock and mounds of mud
and a mighty hymn, heard from above,
that is a whisper in the River and clamor in the struggle;
thus, when water narrates to us its epic tale,
the River’s voice is grave, the River’s voice is slow.
Translator’s Note: This translation of “La voz del río” seeks to bring the evocative beauty and philosophical depth of Dr. Wenceslao Pareja’s work to a wider audience. Dr. Pareja, a renowned Ecuadorian doctor, medical researcher, and poet, was instrumental in introducing the modernismo movement to Ecuadorian poetry with his first collection, “Voces Lejanas y otros poemas” (1915). “La voz del río,” from this collection, exemplifies his profound ability to weave together his observations of the natural world with nuanced poetic imagery, reflecting both his scientific acumen and deep poetic sensibility. The poem resonates not only for its lyrical beauty but also for its portrayal of nature as both timeless and echoing human endeavor. Dr. Pareja’s dual legacy as a scientist and poet makes his work uniquely poignant, deserving of exploration and appreciation across linguistic boundaries.
Original Spanish Version
LA VOZ DEL RÍO
La voz del Río es lenta, la voz del Río es grave,
el Patriarca barbudo viejas historias sabe.
Hay en las vibraciones de sus rudos acentos
ecos de tempestades y rugidos de vientos
y voces de las nieves de los montes lejanos;
en las limpidas fuentes y en los negros pantanos,
el agua que fué nube y el agua que fué hielo
se dicen en secreto la nostalgia del cielo.
Él conduce armonías de la virgen floresta
y los gritos de angustia de la quebrada enhiesta;
él lloró en las cascadas y rugió en el torrente
y lanzó en el arroyo su canción estridente;
recogió los perfumes de las vegas floridas
y arrulló los ensueños de las ninfas dormidas;
acompaña en sus trinos a las aves canoras,
en los himnos triunfales de solemnes auroras;
el fulgor de los cielos en sus ondas retrata
y atraviesa los valles cual serpiente de plata,
y, al morir de las tardes, el soberbio decoro
es un canto de luces y de sangre y de oro.
Yo te adoro ¡oh mi Río! poderoso y bravío,
luminoso y alegre o implacable y sombrío,
porque alientas la fuerza, porque llevas la gracia,
porque nada detiene lo fatal de tu audacia;
tú derribas colinas y macizos derrocas
y a los montes asaltas y perforas las rocas;
tú fecundas los campos en las inundaciones
y arrastras las malezas en lentos aluviones,
y, en vórtice turbio, con el mismo objetivo
va mezclada la arcilla con el oro nativo…
Poderosa corriente que la tierra te llevas
a un remanso lejano a formar islas nuevas,
con la gran sinfonía de tu largo camino
vas cantando la historia del humano destino;
como el agua en el valle va el espíritu humano
persiguiendo incansable la amplitud del oceano;
la raza de los fuertes su camino se fragua
con empuje constante, como trabaja el agua,
y, en su ciega corriente va, venciéndolo todo;
pero hay muros de roca y hay macizos de lodo
y hay un himno potente, que de lo alto se escucha,
que es murmullo en el Río y es fragor en la lucha;
por eso, cuando el agua su epopeya nos cuenta,
la voz del Río es grave, ln voz del Río es lenta.