Literary analysis and translation of modernist poet Rubén Darío's poem "A Roosevelt." Analyzes the historical and cultural context of the poem as well as its critical treatment of Theodore Roosevelt's and the United States interventionist and expansionist policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Copyright: All rights reserved. Downloading, screenshots, and any and all forms of reproduction and/or distribution are prohibited.

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Thalia Pope
ENG 225 (01)
Dransfield
2 May 2014
What Defines American?: The Sociopolitical and Cultural Rift Between the United States and
Latin America as Seen Through Rubén Darío’s “A Roosevelt”
In response to the increasing involvement of the United States in Latin American politics
and economies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, even typically nonpolitical
Latin American authors—such as modernist poet Rubén Darío—took a special interest in
reviving interest and pride in Hispanic culture and heritage. While not considered a political
writer, Darío does address and capture the societal and political unrest of his times as he utilizes
a bitter use of apostrophe and significant application of allusion in order to unite Latin America
within his poem “A Roosevelt.”
The era consisting of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was identifiable
with its increasingly global and democratic ideologies, particularly in regards to the United
States. With the United State’s acquisition of Puerto Rico, Guam, the Philippines, and control of
Cuba’s independence process at the end of the Spanish-American war, the annexation of Hawaii
in 1898, and the possession of American Somoa in 1899, Theodore Roosevelt clearly stepped
into office at a time where the hopes behind the societal ideology of “Manifest Destiny” were
shifting into the expectations of global political and social expansionism. Indeed, Roosevelt not
only embraced the expansionist foreign policies of his predecessors, but—as seen in his issuance
of the Roosevelt Corollary—redefined and expanded these policies to include interventionist
policies. In the example of the Roosevelt Corollary, Roosevelt justifies such interventionist

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policies as a manner to validate and execute the assurances declared previously in the Monroe
Doctrine in protecting West Hemisphere interests. Explaining in his Congressional Address that
it “is contemptible, for a nation … to use high-sounding language to proclaim its purposes, or to
take positions … [i]f there is no intention of providing and keeping the force necessary to back
up a strong attitude,” Roosevelt argues that not only should European reassertion of imperialist
control be defended against, but there must be a willingness to exercise “international police
power” when other countries are seen to have “[c]hronic wrongdoing, or an impotence which
results in a general loosening of the ties of civilized society”—which, coincidentally, is left open
to interpretation. The Corollary additionally comments that if “a nation shows that it knows how
to act with reasonable efficiency and decency in social and political matters, if it keeps order and
pays its obligations, [then] it need fear no interference from the United States”; implying, of
course, that such quantifiers of “efficiency” and “decency” would be established by the United
States. Similar ethnocentric mentalities were established well throughout the Unites States and
Europe in this time period; in 1899, British author Rudyard Kipling commented in his poem
“The White Man’s Burden” that there was a definitive need to “veil the threat of terror / And
check the show of pride” (Kipling, lines 11-12) among the “[h]alf devil and half child” races (8);
political poet Walt Whitman—referenced in Darío’s “A Roosevelt”— wrote an editorial in 1846
that commented that “miserable, inefficient Mexico—with her superstition [and] her burlesque
upon freedom” had no role to play in “the great mission of peopling the new world with a noble
race … Be it ours, to achieve that mission!” (“Our Territory”).
The Latin American reception to this developing sense of interventionism, unsurprising,
grew increasingly negative as it began to observe and protest these ethnocentric, even racist,
attitudes. With time, interventionism became a bitter topic for the Latinos at the receiving end of

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Roosevelt’s Big Stick; a few decades after the Corollary, Nicaraguan revolutionary Augusto
César Sandino eventually led a rebellion against United States military occupation, proclaiming,
“We do not protest against the magnitude of the intervention, but simply against intervention. …
We cannot rely on their promise that some day they will leave from here.” Writers of Latino
background, both from Hispanoamérica and the United States, began to search for cultural
distinction from the mass melting pot culture that they deemed imposed upon them; indeed, the
“urge to redefine the national identity produced a great number of rivaling concepts of what
America was, and who belonged to it” (Ickstadt 23). As part of these rising identity ideologies,
writers such as Darío and essayist José Martí propelled the vision of a united América latina; an
America that could be claimed as their own— an America that was “as distinctly different in its
spirituality and cultural substance from the America that did exist but was not ‘ours’” (21). Many
merely wanted to dispel the misconception that having “blue eyes, red hair, a face full of
freckles, and long feet” defined the American breed (Martinez). Others, like Sardino, sought
political and social independence; a freedom from the interventionist policies. The mentality that
America was the country that waved its banner of red, white, and blue across both the northern
and southern continents was quickly dissipated; when the expansionist mentalities later arose in
regards to the Cuba Question, the Hispanics residing there made this quite clear. “It is probable,”
Cuban essayist Martí declared, “that no self-respecting Cuban would like to see his country
annexed to a nation where the leaders of opinion share towards him the prejudices excusable
only to vulgar jingoism or rampant ignorance.”
The apostrophic poem by Rubén Darío, translated “A Roosevelt,” not only clearly
establishes itself as one of these many voices against the United States foreign policies of the
time, but also speaks to the América latina so desperately seeking to be united. The political

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implications of using this apostrophic manner, furthermore, suggest not only that the author
considers himself a voice of representation of the Latin American peoples, but that the issue
cannot and should not be addressed by any indirect means. The shock of how passionately the
speaker chooses to be this voice, however, comes immediately as Darío’s first stanza begins with
the caustic declaration that it is “with the voice of the Bible, or the verse of Walt Whitman, / that
I would come to you, Hunter!” (lines 1-2, my translation). Just looking at the poem’s beginning
itself, the speaker suggests that he must resort to religion and political poetry to truly have
influence on the president’s attitude—for, in actuality, Darío cannot be considered a political poet
in regards to most of his work, unlike José Martí. Referencing Walt Whitman also brings a sense
of irony with the previously mentioned fact that the American poet held ethnocentric views,
similar to Roosevelt. Having the speaker addressing Roosevelt as “Hunter” brings to mind
connotations of mercilessness, cruelty, and even insatiability— thus attempting to capture the
sense of oppressiveness that the Latin American people felt under the United States’ foreign
policies and the execution of the Roosevelt Corollary. The emotional impact of such a title only
solidifies with the understanding that the president did, in fact, hunt for sport.
Juxtaposing the ideas that “You are primitive and modern, simple and complex, / with
something of Washington and a quarter of Nimrod” creates a jarring sense of inconsistency— yet
the hinted accusations only come to light with historical context (3-4). By saying that while
Roosevelt may have noble intentions like the country’s first president, he shares more in common
with the Biblical king who ordered the Tower of Babel to be built (and consequently brought
about the confounding of languages), the speaker charges Roosevelt with much more than
ordering the construction of a large project, but also with the defiance of God’s will. Thus, the
poem truly begins to assume a prophetic air, parallel to how the prophets of old called men to

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repentance. Such Christian indignation captures much of the Latin American reaction due to the
largely Catholic presence in Latin American culture, a theme developed further on in the stanza.
The allusion takes on further significance with the context that, a few months prior, the United
States had successfully intervened to establish Panamanian independence from Columba in
exchange for the right to build what would eventually become known as the Panama Canal.
The anaphora “You are” continues as the speaker clarifies that Roosevelt not only
represents himself as a leader of a country, but also that “You are the United States” (5). Again
capturing the Latin American perspective of division and estrangement, the use of this particular
anaphora leads itself to a tone of accusation, especially in comparison with the other metaphors.
The air of prophecy (and accusation) again deepens as the speaker declares that the U.S. is “the
future invader / of the naïve America that has Native blood” (6-7). This statement likewise
deepens the implications of cruelty suggested at the beginning of the poem, but also creates a
divisive contrast between the differing visions and definitions of “America.” Throughout the
piece, Darío refers to “America” only as the Hispanic and Latin-American countries of his own
heritage— “the America that still prays to Christ and still speaks Spanish” (8). This contrast
proves significant when understanding that, unlike the northern countries like the U.S. (which at
the time, with their development of the existentialist models, were beginning to incorporate the
definition of God as “religious conscience”), Latin America and other countries with deeply
rooted spiritual traditions continued to understand God “in terms of dreams, love, suffering,
endurance, and liberation or redemption … found in the double heritage of the indigenous and
the Spanish, of Christian and sensual love, of Indian endurance, of the poet’s intoxication and the
philosopher’s ideals” (Yovanovich 46).

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The second stanza continues to utilize the anaphora within the apostrophe, again
politically implying the division between both land and cultures. Rather than speaking to the
United States as a whole, the speaker comments that Roosevelt is a “cultured” and “able”
individual— but his good graces and qualities are undermined by his ruthlessness (Darío 10).
With the accusation that he “oppose[s] Tolstoy” (a philosopher and writer who emphasized
nonviolence and pacifism, and whose writings influenced figures such as Ghandi and Martin
Luther King Jr.), the speaker condemns Roosevelt’s over-assertive global presence and
aggressive foreign policies (10). The clarification that is it is, indeed, the foreign policies that the
speaker condemns comes with the apostrophic metaphor that “You are an Alexander-
Nebuchadnezzar” (12); Alexander the Great in obvious reference to the military conquerer of the
Persian empire, and Nebuchadnezzar in reference to the Babylonian king who overthrew
Jerusalem in his war efforts against Syria and Egypt. Such a metaphor clearly identifies the
anxieties that Latin America hold in regards to the enforcement of the U.S. foreign policy and
expansionist policies, and later almost prove prophetic— at least, according the views of many
later revolutionaries like Sardino.
An interesting shift occurs in line nineteen, with a single-word mandate: “No.” The bullet
he speaks of in the prior sentence is halted in its flight; the style of apostrophe, speaking solely to
Roosevelt, ends. (This is a fact that could not be captured in the English translation. The use of
“You,” from this point onwards, becomes pluralized— no longer addressing a single individual,
but rather the entity of the United States and those who hold the ethnocentric, Anglicized view of
“America.”) The speaker takes a stanza to address (figuratively, of course) how United States is,
indeed, “powerful and great” (20) amongst the countries of Latin America; how its influence has
an intensity so precise and keen that “When it shakes, there is a deep tremor / that passes through

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the enormous spine of the Andes” (21-22). Darío scathingly points out the arrogance and irony
that anyone would promise another that “the stars are [theirs]” even though, already, “[they] are
rich” (24, 26). (The significance of making this kind of promise also becomes more clear with
the understanding that the Argentine sun and Chilean star both are symbols on those countries’
flags—thus clarifying such a promise to be political in nature when taken as representations of
those entire countries.) Seeing the United States combine the strength of “the cult of Hercules”
and the greed of “the cult of Mammon” (27), Darío warns both Roosevelt and his fellow Latin
Americans that self-serving intents of conquest and expansion can, and will be, hidden beneath
the self-proclaimed banners and symbols of liberty and civilization (Yovanovich 46).
Here, the purpose of the poem shifts. The third stanza, the longest of the piece, addresses
both for and to what he defines as “our America”— the Hispanic America, la América latina.
Here, Darío speaks powerfully of the cultural roots that sink them into the local earth and create
an identity to be proud of. Here, he speaks not so much to Roosevelt, but rather to the people
whom he seeks to bind together both culturally and politically, in a passionate symbol of defiance
to the “America” of red, white and blue. He reminds them of their indigenous ties with the proud
rulers and warriors Netzahualcoyotl, Montezuma, and Cuahtemoc; he reminds them of their
legacy of greatness with their Greek and Roman connections to Bacchus (Dionysus) and Pan; he
reminds them of their history of poetry, music, education, religion, and passion. He expresses
these, furthermore, not as successes and moments and lives to remember, but as
accomplishments that they, together as a single “America,” have “walked,” “learned,” and
“lived”; this, in turn, serves to provide and explain that they do, indeed, hold a unifying and
distinctive “American” culture, separate from the ideologies and mentalities that the United
States seemingly imposed upon them in their own enthusiasm with expansionism and

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interventionism (Darío 32, 33, 36). Indeed, line forty-four turns the attention back to not only the
United States, but to any ethnocentric or racist country against the unity of Hispanoamérica:
“Men of Saxon eyes and barbarous soul, it lives! / And it dreams. And it loves, and it shakes; /
and it is the daughter of the Sun” (). The defiance and jubilation behind his words are definitive,
even in translation; such an epiphany clearly reveals the passion behind the speaker’s belief that,
indeed, Latin America has a hopeful future if they can unite in their history and cultural roots.
Indeed, he goes so far as to warn the United States: “Be careful” (46). He does this in
conjunction with the comparison of the Latin American countries and their peoples to “a
thousand [lion] cubs” (an appropriate metaphor, with the Spanish throne and flag symbolized by
a lion)— thus implying that while at present time, Roosevelt and the United States may be the
hunters (see line 11), they will each eventually grow to be powerful, fearsome, and unstoppable.
For as Darío sardonically comments, one can have “and rely on all” (51)— but if God in not in
the picture, then eventually there will be a fall (like the collapse of the Roman empire, or the
destruction of the Tower of Babel…)— and great must be the fall thereof.
In conclusion, as a result of the developing ideologies of expansionism and
interventionism within the United States foreign policies in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries, Latin American authors, and in particular modernist poet Rubén Darío,
vocalized both protest against such policies and sought to revive a unifying culture among the
peoples of la América latina. As such, this poem provides a unique insight into the cultural and
sociopolitical contexts of the time as Darío strives to both bring attention to the divisive split
between the ethnocentric political implications of the United States’ foreign policies and identify
the cultural roots and connections of an overarching Latin American identity within his poem “A
Roosevelt.”

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Works Cited
Acuña, Rodolfo F., and Guadalupe Compeán, eds. Voices Of The U.S. Latino Experience.
Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press, 2008. eBook Collection (EBSCOhost). Web. 2 May
2014.
Darío, Rubén. “A Roosevelt.” Cantos de vida y esperanza. Madrid: Spain, 1905. PDF File.
Ickstadt, Heinz. ‘Our America’: Transnational (and Transatlantic) Mirrors and Reflections.”
America Where? : Transatlantic Views Of The United States In The Twenty-First Century.
Eds. Isabel Caldeira, Maria José Canelo, and Irene Ramalho Santos. Bern: Peter Lang,
2012. 21-38. eBook Collection (EBSCOhost). Web. 2 May 2014.
Kipling, Rudyard. “The White Man’s Burden.” Acuña and Compeán 320-21.
Martínez, Mariano. “Arizona Americans.” Acuña and Compeán 366.
“Our Territory on the Pacific.” Editorial. Brooklyn NY Daily Eagle 7 July 1846: A2. PDF File.
Roosevelt, Theodore. “Fourth Annual Message.” Hall of the House of Representatives, U.S.
Capitol, Washington DC. 6 Dec. 1904. Congressional Address.
Sandino, Augusto César. ‘‘To Abolish the Monroe Doctrine.” Acuña and Compeán 443.
Yovanovich, Gordana. The New World Order : Corporate Agenda And Parallel Reality.
Montréal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2003. eBook Collection (EBSCOhost). Web.
2 May 2014.
!

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TO ROOSEVELT
trans. Thalia Pope, Apr. 2014
It is with the voice of the Bible,
or the verse of Walt Whitman,
that I would come unto you, Hunter!
You are primitive and modern, simple and complex,
with something of Washington and a quarter of Nimrod.
You are the United States—
you are the future invader
of the naïve America that has Native blood,
the America that still prays to Christ and still speaks Spanish.
You are the proud and strong exemplar of your race—
you are cultured, you are able; you oppose Tolstoy.
And breaking horses, or murdering tigers,
you are an Alexander-Nebuchadnezzar.
(You are a Professor of Energy,
as today’s madmen say.)
You think that life is fire,
that progress is eruption—
that you set the future
wherever you put your bullet.
No.
The United States is powerful and great.
When it shakes, there is a deep tremor
that passes through the enormous spine of the Andes.
If you clamor, it’s heard like the lion’s roar.
Hugo already told Grant: “The stars are yours.”
(The dawning Argentinian sun barely shines;
the Chilean star rises...) You are rich.
You join the cult of Hercules with the cult of Mammon
and, lighting the road of easy conquest,
Liberty raises her torch in New York.
But our America—that has had poets
since the ancient times of Netzahualcoyotl,
that has walked in the footprints of the great Bacchus,
that once learned the Panic alphabet;
that once consulted the stars, that knew Atlantis
(whose name resonates to us back from Plato),
that, since the earliest moments of its life, has lived
on light, on fire, on perfume, on love...
the America of the great Montezuma, of the Inca,
the fragrant America of Christopher Columbus,

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the Catholic America, the Spanish America,
the America in which noble Cuahtemoc said:
“I am not in a bed of roses”; that America
that trembles in hurricanes and lives on love—
Men of Saxon eyes and barbarous soul, it lives!
And it dreams. And it loves, and it shakes;
and it is the daughter of the Sun.
Be careful. Long live the Spanish America!
There are a thousand cubs unleashed from the Spanish Lion.
Roosevelt, you would need to be (by the will of God Himself)
the terrible Rifleman and powerful Hunter,
to be able to hold us in your iron claws.
And though you rely on all, there’s one thing you lack—God!

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References
Darío, Rubén. “A Roosevelt.” Cantos de vida y esperanza. Madrid: Spain, 1905. PDF File.
Frederick, Bonnie, trans. “To Roosevelt.” Cantos de vida y esperanza, los cisnes y otros poemas
(1905). n.d. Poesía en español (Poesia.as). Web. Apr. 2014.
Hills, Elijah Clarence, trans. “To Roosevelt.” Cantos de vida y esperanza, los cisnes y otros
poemas (1905). n.d. Poesía en español (Poesia.as). Web. Apr. 2014.
Kemp, Lysander, trans. “To Roosevelt.” Translating the Classics. Amherst College, n.d. Web.
Apr. 2014.
“To Roosevelt.” Poets.org. Academy of American Poets, n.d. Web. Apr. 2014.