César Dávila Andrade

César Dávila Andrade

César Dávila Andrade (Cuenca, Ecuador, October 5, 1918 – Caracas, Venezuela, May 2, 1967) was an Ecuadorian poet, writer and essayist, usually acclaimed as an outstanding member of the 1940 Madrugada Group. His interest in the strange and marvelous earned him the sobriquet,el Fakir.” He is best known for his poetry, although he also wrote short novels, stories, essays and numerous newspaper articles. His works displayed elements of Neo-romanticism and surrealism. His best known poem, “Boletín y elegía de las mitas,” originally published in 1959, marked a milestone in Ecuadorian and Latin American literature. He spent much of his life in Caracas, Venezuela where he worked in the editorial staff of Zona Franca. For several years he served as cultural attaché at the Ecuadorian embassy. Death and transfiguration was a theme in his poems. In 1967, he committed suicide at the age of 48.

Early Life and Education

César Dávila Andrade was born on October 5, 1918, in Cuenca, Ecuador. He came from a modest background, the son of Rafael Dávila Córdova, a public employee who held various municipal positions, and Elisa Andrade Andrade, a diligent homemaker who supported the family through sewing and embroidery. Growing up in a large family with five siblings, Dávila Andrade experienced a close-knit yet financially strained household.

His early education was at the school of the Christian Brothers in Cuenca, after which he attended the Normal School “Manuel J. Calle,” completing up to the second course. He also spent a year at the Academy of Fine Arts, where he began writing poetry as a pastime. Dávila Andrade’s literary interests were likely influenced by family members who were involved in the arts; his uncle César Dávila Córdova was a poet and critic, and his cousin Alberto Andrade Arízaga was a noted journalist known under the pseudonym “Brummel.”

Personal Life

Despite his reserved nature, Dávila Andrade had a contradictory personality marked by a blend of mysticism and a concern for social issues. He was drawn to spiritual pursuits such as Rosicrucianism and Freemasonry, and he was also a supporter of socialism, joining the Socialist Party of Ecuador. However, he avoided deep political engagement, focusing instead on his literary pursuits. His personal life was marked by a struggle with alcohol and a deep interest in the occult sciences, which he explored through practices like hypnotism and spiritual studies.

In 1950, he married Isabel Córdova Vacas, a schoolteacher fifteen years his senior, who became a stabilizing influence on his otherwise tumultuous life. The couple eventually settled in Caracas, Venezuela, where Dávila Andrade spent much of his later years. They never had children together, but Isabel had a son from a previous marriage whom Dávila Andrade helped raise.

Literary Career

César Dávila Andrade was an acclaimed member of the 1940 Madrugada Group, a collective of writers that contributed significantly to Ecuadorian literature. His interest in the mystical and the marvelous earned him the nickname “El Fakir.” Though he is primarily celebrated for his poetry, Dávila Andrade also wrote short novels, stories, essays, and numerous newspaper articles.

His writing is characterized by its neo-romanticism and surrealism, exploring themes such as the mystical, the social, human frailty, and existential concerns. His early work, influenced by poets like Pablo Neruda and Jorge Carrera Andrade, leaned toward neo-romanticism and neosurrealism, focusing on sensitivity and expression.

Poetry: His first collection, “Espacio me has vencido” (1947), demonstrated his ability to blend surreal imagery with profound emotional depth. He continued to explore different themes and styles, most notably in works such as “Catedral salvaje” (1951), a poem marked by its experimental nature and grand imagery, and “Boletín y elegía de las mitas” (1956). This epic poem addresses the plight of the indigenous people of Ecuador and is often compared to Pablo Neruda’s “Alturas de Macchu Picchu” for its epic scope and lyrical intensity, marking a milestone in Ecuadorian and Latin American literature.

Dávila Andrade’s later poetry delved into more abstract and hermetic themes, with collections like “Arco de instantes” (1959) and “En un lugar no identificado” (1963), which feature surrealist imagery and complex symbolic language. His poetry often grappled with existential questions, the metaphysical, and the search for deeper truths within the human condition.

Prose and Essays: Alongside his poetry, Dávila Andrade wrote short stories and essays. His collections “Abandonados en la tierra” (1952) and “Trece relatos” (1955) showcase his narrative skill and his ability to delve into themes such as human suffering, existential despair, and the darker aspects of the human psyche. He also wrote essays exploring themes related to poetry, mysticism, and Eastern philosophy, such as “Magia, yoga y poesía.” During his years in Caracas, he worked on the editorial staff of the literary magazine “Zona Franca” and served as the cultural attaché at the Ecuadorian embassy in Venezuela, further solidifying his role in the literary community.

Death and Last Words

In a tragic culmination of his inner turmoil, César Dávila Andrade took his own life on the morning of May 2, 1967. He was staying at the Royal Hotel of Caracas (Hotel Real de Caracas) when he cut his jugular vein with a razor blade in front of a mirror. This final act was marked by a profound and haunting farewell: next to his lifeless body, he left a note with his last words, “We will never be truly alone if we live within the same heart.” His suicide left a profound impact on the literary community, adding a tragic layer to his legacy.

Legacy and Recognition

César Dávila Andrade is considered one of the most important Ecuadorian poets of the 20th century. His work has had a profound influence on Latin American literature, especially in the areas of neo-romantic and neosurreal poetry. He broke new ground in Ecuadorian poetry, exploring complex themes and bringing a unique voice to the literary landscape. His work was recognized with awards such as the “La Lira” prize on three occasions.

His legacy endures through his poetry, essays, and short stories, which continue to be studied and appreciated for their depth, complexity, and innovative style. His ability to blend the mystical with the social, and the personal with the universal, has cemented his place as a central figure in Ecuadorian and Latin American literature.

Statues of César Dávila AndradE

Bust of César Dávila Andrade at the University of Cuenca
Bust of César Dávila Andrade at the University of Cuenca
César Dávila Andrade at the House of Ecuadorian Culture
Statue of César Dávila Andrade in front of the House of Ecuadorian Culture

Videos

To celebrate the centenary of his birth in 2018, the National Assembly of Ecuador bestowed posthumously on Jorge Dávila Vázquez the “Adalberto Ortiz Cultural Merit Award.” His nephew Jorge Dávila Vázquez (also a poet) gives a speech to accept and thank the assembly for the award. TV Legislativa, 2018.

Poems by Jorge Dávila Vázquez

Poesía quemada

Entre las obras puras, nada que hacer. Tampoco
entre las Ánimas o las Ruinas.

El Poema debe ser extraviado totalmente
en el centro del juego, como
la convulsión de una cacería
en el fondo de una víscera.
Y reír de sí mismo
con el costillar del ventisquero.

Sólo lejos de ti, en el milagro
de no encerrar cordero en el pan de cada día.
Y nada que se asemeje
al punzante abalorio de los cítricos.

Me tentaré lejos de Dios, mano a mano,
a mí mismo,
con la sinceridad hambrienta del perro
que duerme temblando
sobre el pan enterrado por su madre.

¡Y te quemaré en mí, Poesía!
En ladrillos de venas de amor, te escribiré
empapándote profundamente.

¡Luego
vendrá el sol y te extraerá con los colmillos!

TAREA POÉTICA

Dura como la vida la tarea poética,
y la vida desesperadamente
inclinada, para poder oír
en el gran cántaro vegetativo
una partícula de mármol, por lo menos,
cantando sola como si brillara
y pinchándose en el cielo más oscuro.

Atravesábamos calles repletas de sal
hasta los aleros, y la barba
se nos caía como si solo hubiera estado
escrita a lápiz.
Pero la Poesía, como una bellota aún cálida,
respiraba dentro de la caja de un arpa.

Sin embargo, en ciertos días de miseria,
un arco de violín era capaz de matar una cabra
sobre el reborde mismo de un planeta o una torre.
Todo era cruel,
y la Poesía, el dolor más antiguo,
el que buscaba dioses en las piedras.
Otro fue
aquel terrible sol vasomotor
por entre las costillas de San Sebastián
Nadie podrá mirarte como entonces
sin recibir
un flechazo en los ojos.

INFANCIA MUERTA

Aquellas alas, dentro de aquellos días.
Aquel futuro en que cumplí el Estío.
Aquel pretérito en que seré un niño.

Desierto, tú quemaste la quilla de mi cuna
y detuviste a mi Ángel en su Agraz.

La madre era ascendida al plenilunio encinta,
y en un suceso cóncavo
trasladaba sus hijos a sus nombres
y los dejaba solos,
atados a los postes de los campos.

Arrimada a su paño de llorar,
venía la Nodriza,
tan humilde
que no tenía derredor ni Dios.
Yo le besé en la piel los labios más profundos
de su cuerpo,
y desperté en el fondo de su vientre
al Niño sucesivo que no muere.

ENCUENTROS

Nuestros encuentros no tienen mundo.
Se hacen
de pensamiento a pensamiento
en el éter
o en la vivacidad de los sepulcros,
a mil insectos por centímetro.

Nuestros encuentros se sirven
de microorganismos
y partículas de cobre.

Podemos esperar mil años, y aún más.
Nuestros encuentros se realizan en el Iodo
o entre el rumor de herraduras y lienzos
que precede
a las grandes migraciones:

Nuestros encuentros se hacen
en el ser instantáneo
que pasta y muere,
-como pastor y bestia-
entre surcos y siglos paralelos.

Nuestros encuentros no tienen
número ni punto.

ESPACIO ME HAS VENCIDO

Espacio, me has vencido. Ya sufro tu distancia.
Tu cercanía pesa sobre mi corazón.
Me abres el vago cofre de los astros perdidos
y hallo en ellos el nombre de todo lo que amé.
Espacio, me has vencido. Tus torrentes oscuros
brillan al ser abiertos por la profundidad,
y mientras se desfloran tus capas ilusorias
conozco que estás hecho de futuro sin fin.
Amo tu infinita soledad simultánea,
tu presencia invisible que huye su propio límite,
tu memoria en esferas de gaseosa constancia,
tu vacío colmado por la ausencia de Dios.

Ahora voy hacia ti, sin mi cadáver.
Llevo mi origen de profunda altura
bajo el que, extraño, padeció mi cuerpo.
Dejo en el fondo de los bellos días
mis sienes con sus rosas de delirio,
mi lengua de escorpiones sumergidos,
mis ojos hechos para ver la nada.
Dejo la puerta en que vivió mi ausencia,
mi voz perdida en un abril de estrellas
y una hoja de amor, sobre mi mesa.

Espacio, me has vencido. Muero en tu eterna vida.
En ti mato mi alma para vivir en todos.
Olvidaré la prisa en tu veloz firmeza
y el olvido, en tu abismo que unifica las cosas.

Adiós claras estatuas de blancos ojos tristes.
Navíos en que el cielo, su alto azul infinito
volcaba dulcemente como sobre azucenas.
Adiós canción antigua en la aldea de junio,
tardes en las que todos, con los ojos cerrados
viajaban silenciosos hacia un país de incienso.
Adiós, Luis Van Beethoven, pecho despedazado
por las anclas del fuego de la música eterna.
Muchachas, las mi amigas. Muchachas extranjeras.
Dulces niñas de Francia. Tiernas mujeres de ámbar.
Os dejo. La distancia me entreabre sus cristales.
Desde el fondo de mi alma me llama una carreta
que baja hasta la sombra de mi memoria en calma.
Allí quedará ella con sus frutos extraños
para que un niño ciego pueda encontrar mis pasos…

Espacio, me has vencido. Muero en tu inmensa vida.
En ti muere mi canto, para que en todos cante.
Espacio, me has vencido…

EN QUÉ LUGAR

Quiero que me digas; de cualquier
modo debes decirme,
indicarme. Seguiré tu dedo, o
la piedra que lances
haciendo llamear, en ángulo, tu codo.

Allá, detrás de los hornos de quemar cal,
o más allá aún,
tras las zanjas en donde
se acumulan las coronas alquímicas de Urano
y el aire chilla, como jengibre,
debe de estar Aquello.

Tienes que indicarme el lugar
antes de que este día se coagule.

Aquello debe tener el eco
envuelto en sí mismo,
como una piedra dentro de un durazno.

Tienes que indicarme, tú,
que reposas más allá de la Fe
y de la Matemática.

¿Podré seguirlo en el ruido que pasa
y se detiene
súbitamente
en la oreja de papel?

¿Está, acaso, en ese sitio de tinieblas,
bajo las camas,
en donde se reúnen
todos los zapatos de este mundo?

Works

The publication of his complete works was undertaken by the Central Bank of Ecuador and the Pontifical Catholic University of Ecuador in 1984, in a two-volume edition, under the direction of his nephew the poet Jorge Dávila Vázquez.

Poetry

  • Espacio me has vencido (1947)
  • Boletín y elegía de las mitas (1959)
  • Arco de instantes (1959)
  • Conexiones de tierra (1961)
  • En un lugar no identificado (1963)
  • La corteza embrujada (1966)

Short story

  • Abandonados en la tierra (1952)
  • 13 relatos (1955)
  • Cabeza de gallo (1966)

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