“Yo venía con un manto del iris”, Bolívar writes in his famous poem Mi Delirio sobre el Chimborazo (My Delirium atop Chimborazo), talking about his military campaign stress. “Había visitado las encantadas fuentes amazónicas...” “I had visited the enchanted Amazonic fountains”, Bolívar continues, “Y quise subir al atalaya del universo…” talking about the majestic Chimborazo volcano view and ambience. It is quite possible that Bolívar had a rather mystic experience around the Amazon and Orinoco rivers basins, possibly in the middle of his campaign, and his well-known Masonic view of the world. Although Bolívar military leadership has been compared to that of Napoleon Bonaparte and Gengis Khan, he had derived a courage seldom seen in the military history of the world being in front of his army each time. Consistently, he was always in the front of each one of his campaigns, and was always victorious and nearly unhurt. He also survived many attempts of assassination, by enemies and political friends who might have turned back against him. But Bolívar, the hero, the politician, the president, the forceful dictator, the man, The Liberator of five South American nations, there was Bolivar the writer, poet… His political writings include his famous Jamaican Letter (La Carta de Jamaica), El Discurso del Congreso de Angostura (The Angostura Congress’s Discourse). His letters and collective political writings on The Great Colombia, and the unification of Colombia, where he lived most of his life, Venezuela, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia talk about his dream to create an economic regional superpower. German historian Gerhard Mazur, who is by far, the biographer who has best studied Bolívar’s life suggested that Bolívar really wanted a united republic and end all anarchy among all the nations he had liberated. In particular, he wanted Peru further away from San Martin’s influence, while he also calls Bolivia “The Liberator’s pampered daughter…” Bolívar most significant political adversary was Francisco de Paula Santander, “the law man”. But like Sucre, known as “the man of war”, he was also seen as partners in the process emancipation from Spain. Thus, Bolívar was known as the “man with the difficulties.” General Páez proudly talks about Bolívar saying: “Bolívar’s sword is in my his hands…” Although, Bolívar visited Europe, in particular, England, and other nations, he unfortunately never saw The United States as a committed political ally beyond what he saw as economic interests; the English language was a primary factor and communication channels were possibly others, at a time when the Monroe Doctrine was not quite known. However, he dreamed as he used to write of a virtual Americas economic market envisioning the world centuries ahead of him. Bolívar was not a tall man. In fact, the bed where he died in Santa Marta did not reach 6 feet in full length. It is said that Bolívar used to sleep sidewise and normally bending his legs forward in angle, so he could fit in his colonial Spanish bed. Bolívar had suffered the loss of his wife shortly after marriage and enjoyed a well-known affair with an Equatorian woman by the name of Manuela Sáenz de Thorne, la mújer-hombre, an alias which I would carefully translate in good American English as “the woman with cowboy’s pants” rather than literally, due to her heroic character and participation in the liberation process. During my senior years as a systems engineering student at Universidad del Norte, I wrote my only script for an audiovisual (sonoviso), Bolívar y la Soledad de América Latina (Bolívar and the Solitude of Latin America), which was recorded at Uninorte FM Stereo and later on presented at Uninorte’s Auditorium in Barranquilla, at a time when I was paying the delayed date for my graduation, as a disciplinary action for registering more credits than I was authorized for. The images presented in the audiovisual included pictures that I researched from a variety of books, such as Mazur’s biographies on Bolívar, and several iconographic studies, such Iconografía de la familia del Libertador and Iconografía del Libertador. On the December 17, 1830, Bolívar was lying in bed on his final day. He had left Santa Fé de Bogotá after his last political defeat. He said already physically consumed in Santa Fé: “If my death contributes to the cessation of parties and the consolidation of the Union, I will step down peaceful…”. Finally, in Santa Marta, Colombia, at his bed, at La Quinta de San Pedro Alejandrino, Bolívar dreams with a ship. In his delirium he talks about this boat ready to undock from port. “Let’s go… Take my luggage on board!”, Bolívar says. It was the ship of death!. German Historian Gerhard Mazur’s ends his book by saying that Bolivar’s glory was to grow as the shadows grow when the sun sets. Instead, indeed, I would much rather say that Bolivar’s glory has grown and continues to grow as the light is enhanced when the sun rises.
Mi Delirio sobre el Chimborazo
By Símon Bolívar
Yo venía envuelto con el manto del iris, desde donde paga su tributo el caudaloso Orinoco al dios de las aguas. Había visitado las encantadas fuentes amazónicas, y quise subir al atalaya del universo. Busqué las huellas de la Condamine y Humboldt; seguílas audaz, nada me detuvo; llegue a la región glacial; el éter sofocaba mi aliento. Ninguna planta humana había hollado la corona diamantina que puso las manos de la eternidad sobre las sienes excelsas del denominador de los Andes. Yo me dije: este manto del iris que me ha servido de estandarte ha recorrido en mis manos regiones infernales, surcado los ríos y los mares y subido sobre los hombros de los Andes; la tierra se ha allanado a los pies de Colombia, y el tiempo no ha podido detener la marca de la libertad. Belona ha sido humillada por el resplandor del iris, ¿ y no podré yo trepar sobre los cabellos canosos del gigante de la tierra ? Si podré; y arrebatado por la violencia de un espíritu desconocido para mí que me parecía divino, dejé atrás las huellas de Humboldt empañado los cristales eternos que circuyen el Chimborazo. Llegó como impulsado por el genio que me animaba , y desfallezco al tocar con mi cabeza la copa del firmamento; tenía a mis pies los umbrales del abismo. Un delirio febril embargaba mi mente; me siento como encendido por un fuego extraño y superior, ERA EL DIOS DE COLOMBIA QUE ME POSEÍA. De repente se me presenta el tiempo. Bajo el semblante venerable de un viejo cargado con los despojos de las edades; ceñudo, inclinado, calvo, rizada la tez, una hoz en la mano ... "Yo soy el padre de los siglos; soy el arcano de la fama y del secreto; mi madre fue la eternidad; los limites de mi imperio los señala el infinito; no hay sepulcro para mí, porque soy más poderoso que la muerte; miro lo pasado; miro lo futuro, y por mi mano pasa lo presente. ¿ Por qué te envaneces niño o viejo, hombre o héroe ? ¿ Creéis que es algo vuestro universo ? ¿ que levantaros sobre un átomo de la creación es elevaros ? ¿ Pensáis que los instantes que llamáis siglos pueden servir de medida a mis arcanos ? ¿ Imagináis que habéis visto la santa verdad ? ¿ Suponéis locamente que vuestras acciones tienen algún precio a mis ojos ? Todo es menos que un punto a la presencia de lo infinito que es mi hermano". Sobrecogido de un terror sagrado, ¿ como ¡ oh tiempo ! respondí, no ha de desvanecerse el mísero mortal que ha subido tan alto ? He pasado a todos los hombres en fortuna porque me he elevado sobre la cabeza de todos . Yo domino la tierra con mis plantas; llego al eterno con mis manos; siento las presiones infernales bullir bajo mis pasos; estoy mirando junto a mí rutilantes astros, los soles infinitos; mido sin asombro el espacio que encierra la materia; y en tu rostro leo la historia de lo pasado y los pensamientos del destino. Observa, me digo: aprende, conserva en tu mente lo que has visto, dibuja a los ojos de los semejantes el cuadro del universo físico, del universo moral; no escondas los secretos que el cielo te ha revelado; di la verdad a los hombres ... la fantasma desapareció. Absorto, yerto, por decirlo así, quedé exámine largo tiempo, tendido sobre aquel inmenso diamante que me servía de lecho En fin, la tremenda voz la tremenda voz de Colombia me grita: resucito, me incorporo, abro con mis propias manos mis pesados párpados; vuelvo a ser hombre y escribo - DELIRIO -
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