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VARIATIONS ON A TEXT BY VALLEJO, by             Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography

Donald Justice's poem "Variations on a Text by Vallejo" is a poignant reflection on mortality, heavily influenced by César Vallejo's "Black Stone on a White Stone." Justice borrows the opening line from Vallejo—"Me moriré en París con aguacero" ("I will die in Paris with a rainstorm")—and adapts it to his own context, envisioning his death not in Paris, but in Miami, under the bright sun.

The poem begins with a direct declaration: "I will die in Miami in the sun." This sets the stage for a contemplation of a specific moment in the future, one filled with vivid sensory details. The brightness of the sun on the day of his imagined death contrasts starkly with the typical associations of death, which often involve darkness or gloom. This juxtaposition highlights the ordinary continuity of life amidst personal loss, as the sun remains indifferent to individual fate.

Justice's use of imagery paints a clear picture of the day: the sun shining on the dark glasses of strangers, the presence of childhood friends and cousins, and the grave diggers standing respectfully in the shade of palm trees, speaking softly in Spanish. These details ground the poem in a specific cultural and geographical setting, adding layers of authenticity and relatability. The diggers' smoking and speaking in Spanish introduces a layer of cultural realism, reflecting Miami's diverse population and giving the scene a touch of intimacy and respect.

The poem's contemplation of time is evident in the line, "A day like the days I remember, a day like other days, / A day that nobody knows or remembers yet." Here, Justice captures the universality and inevitability of death while emphasizing the mundane nature of life’s progression. He envisions his death on a Sunday, a day often associated with rest and reflection. The use of the present tense to describe future events blurs the lines between the now and the then, emphasizing the inevitability of his future demise.

Justice’s introspection becomes more personal as he reflects on his current state: "Never before had anything looked so blank, / My life, these words, the paper, the grey Sunday." The blankness here can be interpreted as the poet's confrontation with the existential void, the emptiness that comes with contemplating one’s mortality. The description of his dog quivering under a table and his family’s quiet presence reinforces the quiet, unremarkable nature of life continuing in the face of an impending end.

The poem transitions to a third-person perspective in its closing lines: "Donald Justice is dead. One Sunday the sun came out." This shift creates a sense of finality and detachment, as though the poet is observing his own death from an outside perspective. The sun shining on the bay and the slow-moving cars symbolize the world’s indifference to individual deaths; life goes on, unaltered by personal tragedies. The diggers' respectful yet routine actions at the graveside—lifting clods of dirt, scattering it, and spitting—underscore the inevitability and ordinariness of death.

"Variations on a Text by Vallejo" encapsulates Justice's contemplation of his mortality within the familiar and vivid setting of Miami. Through detailed imagery and a meditative tone, the poem reflects on the inevitability of death and the continuity of life. Justice's borrowing of Vallejo's line serves as a bridge between his personal experience and a broader, universal meditation on death, grounding the poem in a specific cultural and emotional landscape while acknowledging the shared human condition.


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