Ernesto Cardenal — Give Ear to My Words (Psalm 5)

Summary

Poetry Unbound: Episode Summary – "Ernesto Cardenal — Give Ear to My Words (Psalm 5)"

Introduction to the Poem

In this episode of Poetry Unbound, host Pádraig Ó Tuama delves into Ernesto Cardenal's powerful poem, "Give Ear to My Words," a modern rendition of Psalm 5 from the Hebrew Bible. Released on January 13, 2025, the episode presents an immersive exploration of the poem's themes, its historical context, and its enduring relevance.

Reading and Analysis of "Give Ear to My Words"

Pádraig Ó Tuama begins by reading Cardenal's poem, highlighting its impassioned plea for justice and protection against corruption and oppression. The poem juxtaposes divine supplication with a condemnation of political and social injustices:

“Give ear to my words, O Lord. Hear my groans. Listen to my protest.” (00:00)

Throughout the reading, Ó Tuama emphasizes the poem's vivid imagery and forceful language, which bring to life the struggle between righteousness and tyranny. He notes how Cardenal uses metaphors like "machine guns" and "armored tanks" to illustrate the pervasive reach of evil manifested through language and action.

Thematic Exploration: Language, Power, and Justice

Ó Tuama delves deeper into the poem's exploration of language as a tool of power and resistance. He observes:

“There is no honesty in their speeches, nor in their press releases.” (00:05)

This critique underscores the manipulation inherent in political rhetoric and propaganda. The poem serves as both a protest and a rallying cry, urging listeners to discern truth from deceit and to seek divine intervention against such forces.

The host further analyzes the poem's structure, paralleling it with traditional psalms. He remarks on the dynamic between pleading for respite and denouncing injustices:

“He’s been speaking about the righteous... Your love surrounds them like armored tanks.” (00:14)

This duality captures the tension between vulnerability and strength, echoing the complexities of faith and activism.

Background on Ernesto Cardenal

Ernesto Cardenal, born in 1925 in Nicaragua, was a multifaceted figure—poet, priest, and politician. Ó Tuama provides a concise biography, highlighting Cardenal's evolution from studying architecture to embracing literature and theology. His involvement in the Sandinista revolution and subsequent role as Minister for Culture positioned him at the intersection of art and politics.

Cardenal's literary contributions, particularly The Gospel of San Jacinto, reflect his commitment to liberation theology, blending spiritual introspection with social activism. Ó Tuama notes:

“He was being critiqued by the US government and the Vatican for his political involvement.” (00:12)

This tension between faith and politics is evident in "Give Ear to My Words," where spiritual yearning meets political resistance.

The Role of Prayer and Communion in Poetry

A significant portion of the episode is dedicated to exploring the concept of prayer as depicted in Cardenal's poem. Ó Tuama muses on the nature of prayer, its etymology, and its manifestation in poetry:

“To pray is to ask, which means then that to pray is to need something or want something.” (00:18)

He reflects on how prayers, much like poems, are expressions of the deepest yearnings and aspirations. The act of writing becomes a dialogue with the divine and the self, fostering a communion that transcends temporal constraints.

Ó Tuama contemplates whether prayer, and by extension poetry, inherently directs oneself towards a higher power or remains an introspective endeavor. He suggests that poetry serves as a vessel for such spiritual dialogues, offering solace and connection:

“The page was letting him know you're in communion with people across millennia.” (00:20)

Conclusion and Insights

In wrapping up the analysis, Ó Tuama underscores the enduring power of Cardenal's work to inspire and challenge. He appreciates the poem's ability to marry ancient forms with contemporary issues, creating a timeless plea for justice and integrity.

“This is muscular. This is saying evil plans need to be foiled, need to be stopped.” (00:15)

The episode concludes with a reflection on the poet's legacy and the continued relevance of his message in today's sociopolitical landscape. Ó Tuama invites listeners to engage with the poem not just as a literary piece but as a call to action and introspection.

Notable Quotes

• Pádraig Ó Tuama (00:05):
  “There is no honesty in their speeches, nor in their press releases.”

• Pádraig Ó Tuama (00:14):
  “Your love surrounds them like armored tanks.”

• Pádraig Ó Tuama (00:18):
  “To pray is to ask, which means then that to pray is to need something or want something.”

• Pádraig Ó Tuama (00:20):
  “The page was letting him know you're in communion with people across millennia.”

Final Thoughts

This episode of Poetry Unbound offers a profound exploration of Ernesto Cardenal's "Give Ear to My Words," bridging the realms of poetry, prayer, and political activism. Through thoughtful analysis and contextual background, Pádraig Ó Tuama invites listeners to engage deeply with the poem's themes of justice, language, and spiritual resilience.

Transcript

[Padre Gotuma]

Hi friends. I've got some news for you. I've got two books coming out in early 2025. 44 poems on being with each Other is a poetry unbound collection with 44 poems and 44 essays. There's poems from Jericho Brown and Mary Oliver and Lucille Clifton in there. And I have a collection of my own poems coming out too. It's called Kitchen Hymns. You can pre order these wherever you get your books. Online bookshops or even better, your local bookshop. There's more [e-mail] thanks friends. My name is Padre Gotuma and a number of years ago I was at a poetry reading in England and the British Poet Laureate at the time, Carol Ann Duffy, was reading some of her poems and she said in the middle of her reading, I don't believe in God, but one of the things that I think I'd love if I did believe in God was the sense that I was being listened to. And then she looked around and she said, that's why I like poetry. And I loved what she said. I thought it was such an elevation of what it is we're hoping that can happen when we turn to a poem or write a poem. That somehow we're hoping that the page will listen even if nobody else hears or sees or reads this poem. That somehow there can be a listening back and forth between the person writing and themselves as they're in conversation with the words, as they emerge on the page. Give ear to my words Psalm 5 by Ernesto Cardinal Translated by Jonathan Cohen Give ear to my words, O Lord. Hear my groans. Listen to my protest. For you are not a God who is a friend of dictators, nor a supporter of their politics, nor are you influenced by their propaganda, nor do you associate with any gangster. There's no honesty in their speeches, nor in their press releases. They talk of peace in their speeches while they increase their war production. They talk of peace at peace conferences and secretly prepare for war. Their lying radios blare all night long. Their desks are piled with criminal plans and sinister documents. But you will protect me from their plans. They speak through the mouth of machine guns. Their flashing tongues are bayonets. Punish them, O God. Foil their politics. Mix up their memos, Block their programs. At the hour of the alarm siren, you will be with me. You will be my refuge on the day of the bomb. You bless the righteous who don't believe in the lies of their ads, nor in their publicity and political campaigns. Your love surrounds them like armored tanks. This poem is modeled after a psalm from the Hebrew Bible, Psalm 5. I love the Psalms. They are so strange and emotional and immediate. It's absolutely clear when you read a psalm who it is they think their enemies are and what it is they hope for and how they feel. And they're crying here and shouting there and looking for punishment here. You see the same kind of energy and impulse in this poem of Ernesto Cardinals. He's absolutely straightforward about what he sees as justice and who it is that he sees as being against justice. His words are clear. But actually, this isn't only a poem with clear words, it's also a poem about words. The title itself, Give ear to my words. And that's the first line as well. Give ear to my words, O Lord, and then hear my groans. So we're engaging in a poem here that's talking about what it means to hear. And then for almost the rest of the poem, there's all of these ways within which violence and evil manifests itself through language. Propaganda, speeches, press releases, lying radios, sinister documents speak through the mouth of machine guns, their flashing tongues or bayonets. It's a long litany of. Of highlighting the ways within which lying language can be made manifest in all kinds of ways. And one of the things that this poem of Ernesto Cardinals is intelligent about is what does it mean to have a campaign of lies, and what does it mean to try to call that out? This poem follows the direction of a lot of psalms. You know, it starts off with an appeal to be heard, and then there's a condemnation about what's going wrong. That takes up most of the poem, really. Listen to my protest. And then he reminds himself, and he reminds God, I suppose, in the context of the one that he's addressing, you will protect me from their plans. And then he goes back to protest. And then there's a clear request, punish them, O God. Foil their politics. And then he doesn't ask for his enemies to be exterminated. And certainly that's a distinction from some of the biblical psalms. Sometimes the biblical psalms do ask for the end of the enemies. I think it seems that he's asking for punishment and stopping of the enemy. He reminds himself of accompaniment. It's like he's trying to encourage himself, you will be with me. And. And he reminds himself of promises that he believes you bless the righteous. And it finishes at the end, in such an unusual stanza. He's been speaking about the righteous. And then he speaks about who the righteous are, the people who don't believe in the lies of their ads, nor in their publicity and political campaigns. And then there's a separate stanza right at the end, very short. Your love surrounds them like armored tanks. Who is them there? I wonder, is this saying that the righteous are surrounded by armored tanks that are protecting them, or that the enemies are surrounded by armored tanks? And that's the love of God, as he's putting it, and saying that the armored tanks are circling around people who are lying. I love the ambivalence of the translation by Jonathan Cohen of this Ernesto Cardinal poem into English. I love the absolute unclarity as to who is it that's being surrounded, in what direction are the tanks facing. And also the fact that he links tanks with love. Your love surrounds them like armored tanks. This isn't a kind of a weak willed imagination about what peace looks like. This is muscular. This is saying evil plans need to be foiled, need to be stopped. And I think this is so powerful in its language. What you see here is somebody who's steeped in that old history, who's translating that old form into very contemporary language and is trying to use it to address the deathly circumstances that were being faced under a dictatorship. Ernesto Cardinal was born in 1925, and he died 95 years later in 2020. Born in Nicaragua, he studied architecture initially, then he moved to study literature and poetry, and then he became a Catholic priest. But he'd always been interested in the ways in which faith and politics, and obviously then the pursuit of his studies as well art. He'd always been interest in the overlap of all of those things. In the 60s, he worked in the Selename Islands. There was people there who were seeking refuge from a dictatorship, and he wrote the most extraordinary book there called the Gospel of Salentiname. He'd read the Sunday Gospel, they'd have outdoor masses, and instead of giving a homily, he'd say to people, what do you think? And after he was finished mass, he'd go home and try, as far as it was possible, to write down what people had said. And he also recorded their names. I've got a copy of the Gospel of Solentonami at home, and when you read through it, you read people in the 60s who were facing horrific oppression, who were bringing their oppression and their resistance and their faith and their doubt into conversation with ancient texts. It's a beautiful record, and in many ways I think of it as like a primary liberation theology text. In the 70s, Ernesto Cardinal became actively engaged in the revolution against the Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua. And then in 1979, with the new Sandinista government. He was appointed Minister for Culture, and he was critiqued over the 80s by the US government and the Vatican for his political involvement. In 2019, Pope Francis did issue a certain kind of apology to him, recognizing the pain and suffering that Ernesto Cardinal must have experienced by being critiqued for doing the very thing that the very texts that the Church would often recite during Mass. So there was an apology of a form offered to him, and he died a year later. The Sandinista government had been critiqued by the US and other places too. The government itself would say that it was characterized by its commitment to social justice and revolutionary ideas and reforming society on behalf of the poorest of society. But there was a lot of opposition and criticism regarding human rights and authoritarian processes during the time too. So Ernesto Cardinal, in a way, his public life as a politician went in the way that in a certain way you'd hoped for, that somebody goes in with motivations for improvement. And he and his colleagues in government were being held to account as well. But even if this poem does cry out for a miracle, certainly the witness of his life is a demonstration of the slow, step by step, complicated model of improvement of political and social structures. On a formal level, of course, this, as a psalmist, is a poem. All the psalms are poems. Some of them are set to music, but of course it's a prayer as well. It's directed to a you. I've spent a lot of time, probably too much time in my life really thinking about prayer and worrying about prayer. The word in English, prayer comes from the French prie, to ask. And so to pray is to ask, which means then that to pray is to need something or want something. And want can mean a lack or a desire. I am not convinced that everybody who prays necessarily has a clear understanding of the direction that their prayer goes to. Perhaps all they know is the place that their prayer is coming from, the deepest yearnings of their own self, the deepest yearnings of their heart. And I think that's enough. If it's not, I'm screwed. Because certainly I've moved further and further away from the idea that I can say anything about the direction of our prayer. All we can hint at, really, and wonder at and marvel at is the fact that in every culture we've had something like prayer emerge some way within which language and art and public ritual gather around the desire of people for increased safety, for increased community, for increased public flourishing. I wonder if prayer works, and in some ways that's a question for people who are proposing a certain form of belief. But in the context of this poem by Ernesto Cardinal, in a way, it might be its own answer. Because even if he wasn't being heard by anything outside of him, he was being heard from the page, and the page was giving him his own courage back. The page was letting him know you're in communion with people across millennia who have used form like this, who've reused and reinvented and broken and remade language to suit the dire circumstances they're facing. And so the poem itself, the prayer, the plea, the desire, is a demonstration of the ways within which that limited, sometimes pained communion of conversation and hope for justice can link us up with other people who have similar hopes. Whether I do or don't believe, what I certainly do is I want Give Ear to my words Psalm 5 by Ernesto Cardinal Translated by Jonathan Cohen Give ear to my words, O Lord. Hear my groans. Listen to my protest. For you are not a God who is a friend of dictators, nor a supporter of their politics, nor are you influenced by their propaganda, nor do you associate with any gangster. There is no honesty in their speeches, nor in their press releases. They talk of peace in their speeches while they increase their war production. They talk of peace at peace conferences and secretly prepare for war. Their lying radios blare all night long. Their desks are piled with criminal plans and sinister documents. But you will protect me from their plans. They speak through the mouth of machine guns. Their flashing tongues are bayonets. Punish them, O God. Foil their politics. Mix up their memos, block their programs. At the hour of the alarm siren, you will be with me. You will be my refuge on the day, day of the bomb. You bless the righteous who don't believe in the lies of their ads, nor in their publicity and political campaigns. Your love surrounds them like armored tanks.

[Chris Heagle]

Give ear to my words. Psalm 5, translated by Jonathan Cohen, comes from Ernesto Cardinal's book Pluriverse. Thank you to New Directions Publishing, who gave us permission to use Ernesto's poem. Read it on our [e-mail] Poetry Unbound.

[Padre Gotuma]

Is Gautam Srikishan, Eddie Gonzalez, Lucas Johnson.

[Chris Heagle]

Kayla Edwards, Tiffany Champion, Cameron Moussard and me, Chris Heagle. Our music is composed and provided by Gautam Shrikishan and Blue Dot Sessions. This podcast is produced by On Being Studios, which is located on Dakota Land. Open your world to poetry with us by subscribing to our substack newsletter. For links and to find out more, visit poetryunbound. Org.

[Padre Gotuma]

This podcast is produced by On Being studios in Minneapolis, Minnesota.