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Ernesto Cardenal: Prayer for Marilyn Monroe

Lord,
welcome this girl known throughout the world as Marilyn Monroe,
although that was not her real name
(but ​​You know her real name, that of the little orphan raped at 9 years old
and the shop assistant who at 16 had wanted to kill herself)
and who now appears before You without any makeup
without her Press Agent
without photographers and without signing autographs
alone like an astronaut facing the night sky.
She dreamed as a child that she was naked in a church (according to the Times)
in front of a prostrate crowd, with their heads on the ground
and she had to walk on tiptoe so as not to step on their heads.
You know our dreams better than psychiatrists.
Church, home, cave, they are the security of the mother’s womb
but also something more than that…

The heads are the admirers, that is clear
(the mass of heads in the darkness under the stream of light).
But the temple is not the studios of 20th Century-Fox.
The temple – of marble and gold – is the temple of her body
in which the Son of Man is with a whip in his hand
expelling the merchants of 20th Century-Fox
who made Your house of prayer a den of thieves.

Lord
in this world contaminated by sins and radioactivity,
You will not blame a little shop assistant
who like every little shop assistant dreamed of being a movie star.
Only her dream came true in technicolor.
She did nothing but act according to the script we gave her,
the absurd script of our own lives.
Forgive her, Lord, and forgive us
for our 20th Century
for that Colossal Super-Production we have all worked on.
She was hungry for love and we offered her tranquilizers.
For the sadness of our sins
psychoanalysis was recommended to her.
Lord, you remember her growing fear of the camera
and hatred of makeup, insisting on putting on makeup in every scene
and how the horror grew greater
and the tardiness to the studios greater.

Like every little shop assistant
she dreamed of being a movie star.
And her life was unreal like a dream that a psychiatrist files away.

Her romances were a kiss with closed eyes
that when the eyes were opened
were uncovered by the spotlight
then the spotlight was turned off!
and the crew struck the two room walls (it was a set)
while the Director walked off with the script
this scene now a take.
Or like a voyage of a yacht, a kiss in Singapore, a dance in Rio
the reception in the mansion of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor
viewed from some slum tenement.
The movie ended without the final kiss.
They found her dead in bed, hand on the phone.
And the detectives never discovered who she was going to call.
It was
like someone who dialed the number of the only friendly voice
and hears a tape saying:  WRONG NUMBER.
Or like someone who is wounded by gangsters
who stretches out her hand for a disconnected phone.

Lord
whoever she was going to call
and didn’t (and maybe it was no one at all
or Someone whose number is not in the Directory of Angels)
You answer that call.

~~~~


ORACIÓN POR MARILYN MONROE

Señor
recibe a esta muchacha conocida en toda la Tierra con el nombre de Marilyn Monroe,
aunque ése no era su verdadero nombre
(pero Tú conoces su verdadero nombre, el de la huerfanita violada a los 9 años
y la empleadita de tienda que a los 16 se había querido matar)
y que ahora se presenta ante Ti sin ningún maquillaje
sin su Agente de Prensa
sin fotógrafos y sin firmar autógrafos
sola como un astronauta frente a la noche espacial.
Ella soñó cuando niña que estaba desnuda en una iglesia (según cuenta el Times)
ante una multitud postrada, con las cabezas en el suelo
y tenía que caminar en puntillas para no pisar las cabezas.
Tú conoces nuestros sueños mejor que los psiquiatras.
Iglesia, casa, cueva, son la seguridad del seno materno
pero también algo más que eso…

Las cabezas son los admiradores, es claro
(la masa de cabezas en la oscuridad bajo el chorro de luz).
Pero el templo no son los estudios de la 20th Century-Fox.
El templo -de mármol y oro- es el templo de su cuerpo
en el que está el hijo de Hombre con un látigo en la mano
expulsando a los mercaderes de la 20th Century-Fox
que hicieron de Tu casa de oración una cueva de ladrones.

Señor
en este mundo contaminado de pecados y de radiactividad,
Tú no culparás tan sólo a una empleadita de tienda
que como toda empleadita de tienda soñó con ser estrella de cine.
Y su sueño fue realidad (pero como la realidad del tecnicolor).
Ella no hizo sino actuar según el script que le dimos,
el de nuestras propias vidas, y era un script absurdo.
Perdónala, Señor, y perdónanos a nosotros
por nuestra 20th Century
por esa Colosal Super-Producción en la que todos hemos trabajado.
Ella tenía hambre de amor y le ofrecimos tranquilizantes.
Para la tristeza de no ser santos
se le recomendó el Psicoanálisis.
Recuerda Señor su creciente pavor a la cámara
y el odio al maquillaje insistiendo en maquillarse en cada escena
y cómo se fue haciendo mayor el horror
y mayor la impuntualidad a los estudios.

Como toda empleadita de tienda
soñó ser estrella de cine.
Y su vida fue irreal como un sueño que un psiquiatra interpreta y archiva.

Sus romances fueron un beso con los ojos cerrados
que cuando se abren los ojos
se descubre que fue bajo reflectores
¡y se apagan los reflectores!
Y desmontan las dos paredes del aposento (era un set cinematográfico)
mientras el Director se aleja con su libreta
porque la escena ya fue tomada.
O como un viaje en yate, un beso en Singapur, un baile en Río
la recepción en la mansión del Duque y la Duquesa de Windsor
vistos en la salita del apartamento miserable.
La película terminó sin el beso final.
La hallaron muerta en su cama con la mano en el teléfono.
Y los detectives no supieron a quién iba a llamar.
Fue
como alguien que ha marcado el número de la única voz amiga
y oye tan solo la voz de un disco que le dice: WRONG NUMBER
O como alguien que herido por los gangsters
alarga la mano a un teléfono desconectado.

Señor:
quienquiera que haya sido el que ella iba a llamar
y no llamó (y tal vez no era nadie
o era Alguien cuyo número no está en el Directorio de los Ángeles)
¡contesta Tú al teléfono!

~~~~

Source: Acento Castellano

Ernesto Cardenal Martínez (1925 – 2020) was a Nicaraguan Catholic priest, poet, and politician. He was a liberation theologian and the founder of the primitivist art community in the Solentiname Islands, where he lived for more than ten years (1965–1977). A former member of the Nicaraguan Sandinistas, he was Nicaragua’s minister of culture from 1979 to 1987. He was prohibited from administering the sacraments in 1984 by Pope John Paul II, but rehabilitated by Pope Francis in 2019. (adapted from Wiki)

Translation copyright 2024 by Michael Simms.

Top photos: Marilyn Monroe appeared in a hair product advertisement in 1941 when she was 15, and she was photographed at a charity benefit in Hollywood in 1953 when she was 27.


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17 comments on “Ernesto Cardenal: Prayer for Marilyn Monroe

  1. drmandy99
    September 14, 2024
    drmandy99's avatar

    What a beautiful woman, what a beautiful poem.

    Like

  2. John Tieman
    September 14, 2024
    John Tieman's avatar

    I love this poem. And I admire your translation. You truly capture the holiness of his meditation, of his priestly love. Well done.

    Like

    • Vox Populi
      September 14, 2024
      Vox Populi's avatar

      Thank you, John. Your translation of this poem, which I published in Coal Hill Review many years ago, inspired me to try my own version. Unfortunately, this website won’t allow me to link to the page.

      Like

      • John Samuel Tieman
        September 14, 2024
        John Samuel Tieman's avatar

        Thank you. I am touched by that.

        To give full credit, in 1993 my translation appeared in River Styx. In 1995, it was published in “The Best Of River Styx“. There was a sweet follow-up, if you will. I was able to give Padre Cardenal a copy of the translation when he visited Washington University here, in St. Louis.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Vox Populi
          September 14, 2024
          Vox Populi's avatar

          I didn’t know that you gave the poet a copy of your translation. Very cool.

          Like

          • John Samuel Tieman
            September 14, 2024
            John Samuel Tieman's avatar

            I was with Michael Castro, my late dear friend and the editor of “River Stys”. We were with the poet, John Brandi. It’s a sweet memory. The translation had just been published that very month, so the timing was also sweet.

            Liked by 1 person

  3. boehmrosemary
    September 14, 2024
    boehmrosemary's avatar

    Yes, some things (specially plays on words) are untranslatable. That’s always my problem with translations. This is a good one. Translation. What an amazing poem, so loving, so sad, so full of a deeper understanding of how you don’t value your self should you be so unfortunate as to be raped. Especially at such an early age. Your relationship to your self and your body change. She needed help. And, oh God, how glorious she was.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Vox Populi
      September 14, 2024
      Vox Populi's avatar

      Norma Jean was a brilliant actor and performer, but a deeply wounded person.

      >

      Liked by 2 people

  4. Laure-Anne Bosselaar
    September 14, 2024
    Laure-Anne Bosselaar's avatar

    How I love this poem — and how happy I am you translated it, Michael!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. jmnewsome93c0e5f9cd
    September 14, 2024
    jmnewsome93c0e5f9cd's avatar

    I followed Liberation Theology, but never know Cardenal was a poet. The poem (and its translation) talk of another type of oppression than that of the poor: exploitation of women by systemic Hollywood and other cultural forces back in the late 1950s and 60s. Oh, I see Michael Simms was the translator. It reads well. In the very last stanza of the poem there’s a phone book pun in Spanish on the Directorio de los Angeles as the Directory of Los Angeles, or the Directory of the Angels. Not quite the same, huh?

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Gerald Fleming
    September 14, 2024
    Gerald Fleming's avatar

    Hadn’t known this poem! Terrific, instructive. I remember hearing Cardenal read in San Francisco, the sixties or early seventies. One of those huge readings of the time, a dozen-plus readers, audience of hundreds.

    Liked by 4 people

  7. Margo Berdeshevsky
    September 14, 2024
    Margo Berdeshevsky's avatar

    Pow, a punch to the gut poem. And written by a good priest , not like the recently disgraced french Abbé Pierre :(( … May the poem in this prayer be answered by a good God and not a bad one. May the star dreamer in these lines be at peace at last, loved by some good God and not the Gods of kleig lights and abuses. Amen corner here.

    Liked by 4 people

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