I recently rediscovered my copy of a 1951 translation of St John of the Cross's poems. Roy Campbell renders John's Spanish into accessible and poetic English which captures the erotic and subtle aspects of these dense and lively works. This poem is the basis of John's later work, the Ascent of Mount Carmel. It sets out a number of characteristic aspects of John's spirituality, which are also the classic themes of Christian mystical tradition: the darkness that speaks of a setting aside of our relilance on sensory knowledge; the ascent that tells of our Godward orientation; the union of the lover and the beloved; the focus on letting go rather than strenuous effort. The poem also shows us more specific features of John's spirituality, such as the use of the language of 'wounding' to express the intensity and painful opening up that can be the experience of one who seeks God.
There is always a tension involved in expressing such ineffable truths in language, especially when the mystic constantly warns us of the danger of over-confidence in our ability to express such things at all. However, poetry's facility for open-ended and allusive expression can lead us into silence - the language does not close off our reaching out towards God but opens up a new space.
Upon a gloomy night,
With all my cares to loving ardours flushed,
(O venture of delight!)
With nobody in sight
I went abroad when all my house was hushed.
In safety, in disguise,
In darkness up the secret stair I crept,
(O happy enterprise)
Concealed from other eyes
When all my house at length in silence slept.
Upon that lucky night
In secrecy, inscrutable to sight,
I went without discerning
And with no other light
Except for that which in my heart was burning.
It lit and led me through
More certain than the light of noonday clear
To where One waited near
Whose presence well I knew,
There where no other presence might appear.
Oh night that was my guide!
Oh darkness dearer than the morning's pride,
Oh night that joined the lover
To the beloved bride
Transfiguring them each into the other.
Within my flowering breast
Which only for himself entire I save
He sank into his rest
And all my gifts I gave
Lulled by the airs with which the cedars wave.
Over the ramparts fanned
While the fresh wind was fluttering his tresses,
With his serenest hand
My neck he wounded, and
Suspended every sense with its caresses.
Lost to myself I stayed
My face upon my lover having laid
From all endeavour ceasing:
And all my cares releasing
Threw them amongst the lilies there to fade.
Recent Comments