Commentary on the Poem “The Motives of the Wolf”

THE MOTIVES OF THE WOLF

The man whose heart is like a fleur-de-lis,

whose soul is a cherub’s, whose tongue is celestial,

the humble and gentle Francis of Assisi,

is with a rough and grim animal,

a fearsome beast of bloodshed and plunder,

its jaws full of fury, its eyes full of evil:

the wolf of Gubbia, the terrible wolf,

rabid, has ravaged the surrounding lands;

cruelly it has destroyed all the flocks;

it devoured lambs, it devoured shepherds,

and its deaths and depredations are countless.

Strong hunters armed with iron weapons

were torn apart. Its hard fangs

made short work of the fiercest dogs,

just as they did of kids and little lambs.

Francis went forth:

he sought the wolf

in its lair.

Near the cave he found the enormous beast,

which, on seeing him, sprang ferociously

at him. Francis, in his gentle voice,

raising his hand,

said to the furious wolf: “Peace, Brother

Wolf!” The animal

gazed at the man in the coarse habit;

it abandoned its surly manner,

closed its open, menacing jaws,

and said: “Very well, Brother Francis!”

“What!” exclaimed the saint. “Is it right for you to live

by horror and death?

Will the blood shed

by your diabolical snout, the grief and terror

that you spread, the weeping

of the peasants, the cries, the pain

of so many creatures of Our Lord,

not restrain your infernal fury?

Do you come from hell?

Has Lucifer or Belial perhaps instilled

his eternal hatred in you?”

And the great wolf said humbly: “The winter is harsh,

and hunger is horrible! In the frozen forest

I found nothing to eat; so I sought the livestock,

and at times I ate both livestock and shepherd.

Blood? I saw more than one hunter

on his horse, with a goshawk

on his fist; or chasing after the wild boar,

the bear, or the stag; and I saw more than one

stain himself with blood, wound and torture,

to the muffled blare of hoarse horns,

the animals of Our Lord.

And they did not go hunting out of hunger.”

Francis replies: “In man there is

evil leaven.

When he is born, he comes with sin. It is sad.

But the simple soul of the beast is pure.

From this day forward

you will have something to eat.

You will leave

the flocks and people of this land in peace.

May God sweeten your wild nature!”

“Very well, Brother Francis of Assisi.”

“Before the Lord, who binds and looses all things,

extend your paw to me as a pledge of your promise.”

The wolf extended its paw to the brother

of Assisi, who in turn held out his hand.

They went to the village. The people watched,

and could scarcely believe what they saw.

Behind the friar walked the fierce wolf,

and, with its head bowed, quietly followed him

like a household dog, or like a lamb.

Francis summoned the people to the square

and preached there.

And he said: “Behold this gentle quarry.

Brother Wolf is coming with me;

he swore to me that he would no longer be your enemy,

nor repeat his bloody attack.

You, in return, will provide food

for God’s poor beast.” “So be it!”

answered all the people of the village.

And then, as a sign

of contentment,

the good animal wagged its head and tail,

and entered the monastery with Francis of Assisi.

*

For some time the wolf remained peacefully

in the holy refuge.

Its coarse ears listened to the psalms,

and its bright eyes grew moist.

It learned a thousand tricks and played a thousand games

when it went to the kitchen with the lay brothers.

And when Francis said his prayers,

the wolf licked his humble sandals.

It went out into the street,

roamed the mountain, descended into the valley,

entered the houses, and they gave it something

to eat. They looked upon it as a gentle greyhound.

One day, Francis went away. And the gentle wolf,

the tame and good wolf, the upright wolf,

disappeared and returned to the mountain,

and its howling and fury began anew.

Once again fear and alarm were felt

among the neighbors and the shepherds;

terror filled the surrounding lands,

courage and weapons were of no avail,

for the fierce beast

never gave its fury any respite,

as though it harbored

the fires of Moloch and Satan.

When the divine saint returned to the village,

everyone sought him out with complaints and tears,

and with a thousand grievances they bore witness

to all they suffered and all they lost

because of that infamous wolf of the devil.

Francis of Assisi grew stern.

He went to the mountain

to seek the treacherous, murderous wolf.

And beside its cave he found the beast.

“In the name of the Father of the sacred universe,

I command you,” he said, “O wicked wolf,

to answer me: Why have you returned to evil?

Answer. I am listening.”

As though engaged in a silent struggle, the animal spoke,

its mouth foaming and its eye baleful:

“Brother Francis, do not come too close...

I was peaceful there in the monastery;

I would go out to the village,

and if they gave me something, I was content

and ate meekly.

But I began to see that in every house

there dwelt Envy, Malice, and Wrath,

and on every face burned the embers

of hatred, lust, infamy, and lies.

Brothers waged war against brothers,

the weak lost, the wicked prevailed,

woman and man were like bitch and dog,

and one fine day they all beat me with sticks.

They saw me humble; I licked their hands

and feet. I followed your sacred laws;

all creatures were my brothers and sisters:

brother men, brother oxen,

sister stars, and brother worms.

And so they beat me and drove me away.

And their laughter was like boiling water,

and within my entrails the beast came back to life,

and suddenly I felt myself become an evil wolf;

but still better than those evil people.

And I began again to struggle here,

to defend myself and feed myself.

As the bear does, as the wild boar does,

which must kill in order to live.

Leave me on the mountain, leave me on the crag,

let me exist in my freedom,

go back to your monastery, Brother Francis,

continue on your path and in your holiness.”

The saint of Assisi said nothing to him.

He looked at him with a profound gaze,

and departed with tears and sorrow,

and spoke to the eternal God with his heart.

The forest wind carried away his prayer,

which was: Our Father, who art in heaven...

Rubén Darío, Nicaraguan poet