Countless pages have been dedicated to La Virgen de la Esperanza and to the magnificent spectacle of popular religious fervour generated each year by La Hermandad de la Macarena as its procession moves through the streets of Seville in the Madrugada of Good Friday. A selection of these texts is presented below:
( )In my glass the moon so round,
Federico García Lorca: : Tardecilla del Jueves Santo (Little Afternoon of Easter Thursday), 1924. , 1924. ( )
¡Virgen de la Esperanza!¡Macarena!
¡Virgen de la Esperanza! In your dark
Alas! With no love, with no faith, there is no way
Oh, and for my Seville, that has everything,
Manuel Machado: A Nuestra Señora de la Esperanza (Sevilla: Madrugada del Viernes Santo) (To Nuestra Señora de la Esperanza (in the Madrugada of Good Friday)
“Outside the church a single miraculous hand squeezes the gold from the early morning taverns and orange groves. And a high-towered procession rises up on the horizon.
Antonio Núñez de Herrera: Sevilla: Sevilla: Teoría y realidad de la Semana Santa (Theory and Reality of Holy Week), 1934., 1934.
She who alleviates all pain and sorrow;
Hail, light of heaven,
She who accedes to every wish;
Hail, Mother Mary,
Joaquín y Serafín Álvarez Quintero: Salve a la Virgen Macarena (Salve to the Macarena Virgin), , 1930.
In white wine, in rosemary,
Juan Sierra: María Santísima (Most Holy Mary), , 1920.
“…when the night seems totally consumed in the most austere penitence and all is weeping, grief, sorrow and death, La Macarena – grace, joy, the flower of our city and the smile in our soul – suddenly rises up, unexpected, overwhelming, unbridled, crystalline and glowing, surrounded by quivering lights and rocking to a rhythm of angelic bells and silver, laughing, alive, at once both human and heavenly”.
Joaquín Romero Murube: Sevilla en los labios.(Seville on One’s Lips).
I would adorn you with neither orange blossom nor crescents.
The Southern Cross shall be your Cruz de Guía,
Tears, no: joy, for your sorrow
-Let me stay close to the wall.
Aquilino Duque: La calle de la luna (Street of the Moon), , 1958.
|-Virgen de la Macarena
look at me, look how I come,
so bloodless that even
my dark colour has turned white.
( ) With your necklaces, bind up
this concave wound,
for my life is ebbing away
through the eyelets!
( ) Please, Virgin, please
let me return blood-filled to Seville
and proudly lead my cuadrilla
along the Alameda.
Rafael Alberti: Joselito en su Gloria (Joselito in his Glory).
“…and thus the brothers, imbued with pious arrogance because they know they are the owners of the city’s most beautiful, most venerated, most magnificent image, pour through those labyrinthine streets like a victorious army carrying its trophies, hungry for acclaim, flaunting elegance and grace. And one lifts his hood because he is proud to be recognised among the members of the Brotherhood; and another showers the Virgin with compliments because he considers being a member of the Macarena tantamount to having sworn allegiance as Her knight errant…”.
Luis Martínez Kleiser: La Semana Santa de Sevilla (Holy Week in Seville), 1924.,
“When the sons of the famous quarter see their beloved Patron appear beneath the old monumental gateway, which still stands next to the Roman walls, enwrapped in Her magnificent green velvet mantle and with her small hands covered with rings, a unanimous cry of joy bursts from their mouths and a mystical ecstasy invades their hearts”.
Benito Más y Prat: : La tierra de María Santísima (The Land of The Most Holy Mary), , 1925.
My Mother of Hope,
Bride of the macarenos!
The one with night in Her eyes!
The one with grace in Her body,
like that of a bullfighter!
The prettiest in the quarter!
Take me with you to heaven
and show those things
to me, for I am a macareno.
&ldquoThe Madrugada of Good Friday has faded away.
Rafael Laffón: Discurso de las cofradías de Sevilla (Exposition of Seville’s Brotherhoods), , 1941.
“At the end La Macarena rises up, in Her trail of light. The tears have scarcely dried on Her face, and she glows, consoled by the heat of so much love. The applause becomes frenzied. SHE glides past in her radiance, like a slow moving comet, leaving behind her the peacock’s tail of her eyed green mantle with its fiery train, before vanishing into the darkness of the Cathedral…”.
Joseph Peyré: La Passion selon Séville (The Passion according to Seville), , 1951.
The same as always she remains.
Joaquín Caro Romero: Canción de cumpleaños, (Birthday Song), 1969.
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