Stories, with questions

“The Bourgeois King”

Rubén Darío, 1888 · a rich king puts a hungry poet to work in his garden · in English and Spanish

The People’s Share · GED Reasoning Through Language Arts · reading fiction

Part 1

Before you read

A rich king who collects beautiful things is brought a poet, who is hungry. The king does not know what to do with him, so he puts him in the garden, beside the swans, and gives him a job turning the handle of a music box, one tune for one piece of bread.

Written by
Rubén Darío (1867–1916), from Nicaragua, the most famous poet in the Spanish language in his time. He wrote this story at about twenty, while he was working as a poorly paid journalist in Chile.
First printed
In Spanish, in a newspaper in Santiago, Chile, and then in 1888 in his first book of stories and poems, Azul… (“Blue…”). An English version appears in The Eye of the Heart: Short Stories from Latin America (1973), edited by Barbara Howes.
This translation
Made for The People’s Share. The Spanish original is free for anyone to print, so it is here beside the English, paragraph by paragraph. Where Darío’s words are unusual, the English keeps them; where a word-for-word version would only confuse, it gives the plain meaning. If you read Spanish, read both. You can hide the Spanish with the switch above the story.
Length
About 1,650 words in English, in 35 paragraphs. Allow 15 minutes to read it.
The word in the title

Bourgeois (say it “boor-ZHWAH”) is a French word. It first meant a person of the town who lived by business, and later the middle and upper classes who own property and run businesses. By Darío’s time, artists used it as an insult for people who care most about money, comfort and looking respectable, and who treat art as one more thing to buy. That is how the story uses it.

How Darío writes

Darío loved rich, piled-up description: long lists of fine things, and names from art and history. In paragraphs 5 to 9, he is showing off the king’s treasures, and making fun of them at the same time. You do not need every name in those paragraphs. The list below explains them, but the story itself begins again at paragraph 10, when the poet arrives.

Paragraph 2 mentions that the king owns enslaved women. Darío puts it in a list with his horses and dogs, to show a man who treats people as possessions. The story shows the same thing again when he meets the poet.

How to read it

  1. Read it once straight through, in English. Move quickly through paragraphs 5 to 9.
  2. Look over the words below.
  3. Read it again with a pencil. Mark every place the poet is set beside a bird.
  4. Then do the questions. Each one names a paragraph. Go back to it before you choose.

Words and names you will meet

fanfaresparagraph 2
short, loud tunes played on horns
songs of praiseparagraph 3
in Spanish, ditirambos: poems written to flatter someone
fencing mastersparagraph 3
teachers of sword fighting, as a sport
rhetoricparagraph 4
the art of speaking and writing to impress or persuade
sun kingparagraph 4
Louis XIV of France (ruled 1643–1715) was called the Sun King. He was famous for his palace and his parties.
Babylonparagraph 4
an ancient city famous, in old stories, for its riches and its pleasures
footmenparagraph 5
male servants who open doors and wait on people
alabasterparagraph 5
a soft white stone used for carving
King Solomon’s throneparagraph 5
The Bible says King Solomon’s throne had carved lions on its steps.
Monsieur Ohnetparagraph 5
Georges Ohnet, a French writer of popular novels in the 1880s. Serious writers sneered at him.
Hermosillaparagraph 5
José Gómez Hermosilla, a Spanish critic known for strict rules about correct writing
a Goncourtparagraph 7
Edmond and Jules de Goncourt, brothers in Paris, were writers and collectors famous for their love of Japanese art.
a Croesusparagraph 7
Croesus was an ancient king so rich that his name came to mean “a very rich man.”
lacquerparagraph 7
wood or metal covered with a hard, shiny coat of varnish, often painted; a famous art of Japan
Tartar warriorsparagraph 7
horsemen from the plains of Central Asia, often shown on old Chinese porcelain
muses, nymphs and satyrsparagraph 8
figures from Greek stories: goddesses of the arts, spirits of nature, and half-goat men
the room of the elegant ageparagraph 8
a room decorated in the style of France in the 1700s
Watteau and Chardinparagraph 8
French painters of the 1700s
Maecenasparagraph 9
a rich Roman who paid poets to write. His name came to mean anyone rich who pays for art. Here it is the king.
courtiersparagraph 10
the people who surround a king at his court
lyreparagraph 20
a small harp, the old symbol of poetry
museparagraph 20
here, whatever inspires a poet
Olympusparagraph 20
the mountain where the Greek gods lived
Messiahparagraph 21
a savior who is expected to come
Apolloparagraph 22
the Greek god of poetry, music and light
music boxparagraph 28
here, a hand-turned street organ. Turn the handle and it plays the tunes built into it.
crankparagraph 29
a handle you turn around and around to make a machine work
waltzes, quadrilles and galopsparagraph 29
popular dances of the 1800s
tiririrínparagraph 30
the sound of the music box
subjectsparagraph 32
the people ruled by a king
chandeliersparagraph 33
hanging lights with many branches, often of crystal

The story · yours to keep

The Bourgeois King

(A Happy Song) · Rubén Darío, 1888 · El rey burgués (Canto alegre)

1Friend! The sky is dull, the air is cold, the day is sad. So here is a cheerful story, to take our minds off these lovely gray moods:

¡Amigo! el cielo está opaco, el aire frío, el día triste. Un cuento alegre..., así como para distraer las hermosas y grises melancolías, helo aquí:

2In a huge and shining city there was once a very powerful king. He had fanciful, costly clothes; naked slave women, white and black; horses with long manes; gleaming weapons; swift greyhounds; and huntsmen with bronze horns, who filled the wind with their fanfares. Was he a poet king? No, my friend: he was the Bourgeois King.

Había en una ciudad inmensa y brillante un rey muy poderoso, que tenía trajes caprichosos y ricos, esclavas desnudas, blancas y negras, caballos de largas crines, armas flamantísimas, galgos rápidos y monteros con cuernos de bronce, que llenaban el viento con sus fanfarrias. ¿Era un rey poeta? No, amigo mío: era el Rey Burgués.

3The ruler was very fond of the arts. He rewarded, with great generosity, his musicians, his makers of songs of praise, his painters, sculptors, druggists, barbers and fencing masters.

Era muy aficionado a las artes el soberano, y favorecía con gran largueza a sus músicos, a sus hacedores de ditirambos, pintores, escultores, boticarios, barberos y maestros de esgrima.

4When he went into the forest, beside a wounded and bleeding deer or wild boar, he had his professors of rhetoric make up songs about it on the spot. The servants filled the cups with golden, bubbling wine, and the women clapped their hands in graceful rhythm. He was a sun king, in his Babylon full of music, loud laughter and the noise of feasting. When he grew tired of the busy city, he went hunting, and the woods thundered with his hunting party. He drove the frightened birds from their nests, and the shouting echoed in the deepest caves. The long-legged dogs broke through the brush as they ran, and the hunters, bent over their horses’ necks, let their purple cloaks stream out behind them, their faces red and their hair in the wind.

Cuando iba a la floresta, junto al corzo o jabalí herido y sangriento, hacía improvisar a sus profesores de retórica canciones alusivas; los criados llenaban las copas de vino de oro que hierve, y las mujeres batían palmas con movimientos rítmicos y gallardos. Era un rey sol, en su Babilonia llena de músicas, de carcajadas y de ruido de festín. Cuando se hastiaba de la ciudad bullente, iba de caza atronando el bosque con sus tropeles; y hacía salir de sus nidos a las aves asustadas, y el vocerío repercutía en lo más escondido de las cavernas. Los perros de patas elásticas iban rompiendo la maleza en la carrera, y los cazadores, inclinados sobre el pescuezo de los caballos, hacían ondear los mantos purpúreos y llevaban las caras encendidas y las cabelleras al viento.

5The king had a splendid palace, where he had piled up riches and wonderful works of art. He reached it between clumps of lilacs and wide pools, and the white-necked swans greeted him before the stiff footmen did. Good taste. He climbed a staircase lined with columns of alabaster and of green stone like emerald, with marble lions on either side, like the lions of King Solomon’s throne. Refinement. Besides the swans, he had a great birdhouse, because he loved harmony, cooing and birdsong; and near it he went to improve his mind, reading novels by Monsieur Ohnet, or fine books on questions of grammar, or criticism in the manner of Hermosilla. Oh yes: a fierce defender of correct rules in writing and of the smooth, polished manner in the arts; a lofty soul, a lover of sandpaper and of spelling.

El rey tenía un palacio soberbio donde había acumulado riquezas y objetos de arte maravillosos. Llegaba a él por entre grupos de lilas y extensos estanques, siendo saludado por los cisnes de cuellos blancos, antes que por los lacayos estirados. Buen gusto. Subía por una escalera llena de columnas de alabastro y de esmaragdina, que tenía a los lados leones de mármol, como los de los tronos salomónicos. Refinamiento. A más de los cisnes, tenía una vasta pajarera, como amante de la armonía, del arrullo, del trino; y cerca de ella iba a ensanchar su espíritu, leyendo novelas de M. Ohnet, o bellos libros sobre cuestiones gramaticales, o críticas hermosillescas. Eso sí: defensor acérrimo de la corrección académica en letras, y del modo lamido en artes; alma sublime amante de la lija y de la ortografía.

6Japanese things! Chinese things! For luxury, and nothing more.

¡Japonerías! ¡Chinerías! por lujo y nada más.

7He could well afford the pleasure of a drawing room worthy of the taste of a Goncourt and the millions of a Croesus: bronze monsters with open jaws and curled tails, in strange and marvelous groups; lacquer from Kyoto, inlaid with the leaves and branches of monstrous plants and with animals no one has ever seen; butterflies on rare fans along the walls; fish and roosters in many colors; masks with faces from hell and eyes that seemed alive; spears with ancient blades and handles carved with dragons eating lotus flowers; and, on china as thin as eggshell, robes of yellow silk, as if woven from spider thread, scattered with red herons and green clumps of rice; and vases, porcelain centuries old, the kind that shows Tartar warriors in furs down to their hips, with drawn bows and bundles of arrows.

Bien podía darse el placer de un salón digno del gusto de un Goncourt y de los millones de un Creso: quimeras de bronce con las fauces abiertas y las colas enroscadas, en grupos fantásticos y maravillosos; lacas de Kioto con incrustaciones de hojas y ramas de una flora monstruosa, y animales de una fauna desconocida; mariposas de raros abanicos junto a las paredes, peces y gallos de colores; máscaras de gestos infernales y con ojos como si fuesen vivos; partesanas de hojas antiquísimas y empuñaduras con dragones devorando flores de loto; y en conchas de huevo, túnicas de seda amarilla, como tejidas con hilos de araña, sembrada de garzas rojas y de verdes matas de arroz; y tibores, porcelanas de muchos siglos, de aquellas en que hay guerreros tártaros con una piel que les cubre hasta los riñones, y que llevan arcos estirados y manojos de flechas.

8Besides all that, there was the Greek room, full of marble statues: goddesses, muses, nymphs and satyrs; and the room of the elegant age, with paintings by the great Watteau and by Chardin. Two, three, four…so many rooms!

Por lo demás, había el salón griego, lleno de mármoles: diosas, musas, ninfas y sátiros; el salón de los tiempos galantes, con cuadros del gran Watteau y de Chardin; dos, tres, cuatro, ¡cuántos salones!

9And Maecenas strolled through all of them, his face flooded with a certain majesty, his belly happy and his crown on his head, like the king on a playing card.

Y Mecenas se paseaba por todos, con la cara inundada de cierta majestad, el vientre feliz y la corona en la cabeza, como un rey de naipe.

10One day they brought a strange kind of man before his throne, where he sat among his courtiers, his teachers of rhetoric, and his masters of riding and of dance.

Un día le llevaron una rara especie de hombre ante su trono, donde se hallaba rodeado de cortesanos, de retóricos y de maestros de equitación y de baile.

11“What is that?” he asked.

—¿Qué es eso?—preguntó.

12“Sire, it is a poet.”

—Señor, es un poeta.

13The king had swans in the pool, and canaries, sparrows and mockingbirds in the birdhouse. A poet was something new and strange.

El rey tenía cisnes en el estanque, canarios, gorriones, senzontes en la pajarera: un poeta era algo nuevo y extraño.

14“Leave him here.”

—Dejadle aquí.

15And the poet:

Y el poeta:

16“Sire, I have not eaten.”

—Señor, no he comido.

17And the king:

Y el rey:

18“Speak, and you will eat.”

—Habla y comerás.

19He began:

Comenzó:

20“Sire, for a long time I have been singing the word of the future. I have spread my wings to the hurricane; I was born at the hour of dawn. I am looking for the chosen people, who must wait, with the hymn in their mouths and the lyre in their hands, for the rising of the great sun. I have left behind the inspiration of the sick city, the perfumed bedroom, the muse of the flesh, who fills the soul with smallness and the face with powder. I have smashed the flattering harp with its weak strings against the fine glassware and the pitchers of foaming wine, the wine that makes you drunk without making you strong. I have thrown off the cloak that made me look like an actor, or a woman, and I have dressed myself in a wild and splendid way: my rags are purple. I have gone into the jungle, and there I grew strong, full of rich milk and the drink of new life; and on the shore of the rough sea, shaking my head in the strong black storm, like a proud angel or a half-god from Olympus, I have tried the strong rhythms and forgotten the sweet little love songs.

Señor, ha tiempo que yo canto el verbo del porvenir. He tendido mis alas al huracán, he nacido en el tiempo de la aurora: busco la raza escogida que debe esperar, con el himno en la boca y la lira en la mano, la salida del gran sol. He abandonado la inspiración de la ciudad malsana, la alcoba llena de perfumes, la musa de carne que llena el alma de pequeñez y el rostro de polvos de arroz. He roto el arpa adulona de las cuerdas débiles, contra las copas de Bohemia y las jarras donde espumea el vino que embriaga sin dar fortaleza; he arrojado el manto que me hacía parecer histrión, o mujer, y he vestido de modo salvaje y espléndido: mi harapo es de púrpura. He ido a la selva donde he quedado vigoroso y ahito de leche fecunda y licor de nueva vida; y en la ribera del mar áspero, sacudiendo la cabeza bajo la fuerte y negra tempestad, como un ángel soberbio, o como un semidiós olímpico, he ensayado el yambo dando al olvido el madrigal.

21“I have embraced great Nature, and I have looked for the warmth of the ideal: the poem that is in the star at the bottom of the sky, and the poem that is in the pearl in the depths of the ocean. I have wanted to be powerful! Because the time of great revolutions is coming, with a Messiah all light, all motion and power, and we must welcome his spirit with a poem that is a triumphal arch, with verses of steel, verses of gold, verses of love.

He acariciado a la gran Naturaleza, y he buscado el calor del ideal, el verso que está en el astro en el fondo del cielo, y el que está en la perla en lo profundo del Océano. ¡He querido ser pujante! Porque viene el tiempo de las grandes revoluciones, con un Mesías todo luz, todo agitación y potencia, y es preciso recibir su espíritu con el poema que sea arco triunfal, de estrofas de acero, de estrofas de oro, de estrofas de amor.

22“Sire, art is not in cold wrappings of marble, or in over-polished paintings, or in the excellent Monsieur Ohnet! Sire! Art does not wear trousers, or talk like the bourgeois, or dot every i. Art is majestic. It wears cloaks of gold, or of flames, or goes naked; it kneads clay in a fever and paints with light; it is rich; it beats its wings like an eagle and strikes with its claws like a lion. Sire, between an Apollo and a goose, choose the Apollo, even if the Apollo is made of baked clay and the goose of ivory.

¡Señor, el arte no está en los fríos envoltorios de mármol, ni en los cuadros lamidos, ni en el excelente señor Ohnet! ¡Señor! el arte no viste pantalones, ni habla en burgués, ni pone los puntos en todas las íes. Él es augusto, tiene mantos de oro, o de llamas, o anda desnudo, y amasa la greda con fiebre, y pinta con luz, y es opulento, y da golpes de ala como las águilas o zarpazos como los leones. Señor, entre un Apolo y un ganso, preferid el Apolo, aunque el uno sea de tierra cocida y el otro de marfil.

23“Oh, poetry!

¡Oh, la poesía!

24“And what do we have? Rhythms are sold like bodies on the street, poets sing about the beauty marks on women’s faces, and poetry is cooked up like sweet syrup. And besides, Sire, the shoemaker criticizes my lines of verse, and the professor of pharmacy puts periods and commas into my inspiration. Sire, and you allow all this…! The ideal, the ideal…”

¡Y bien! Los ritmos se prostituyen, se cantan los lunares de las mujeres y se fabrican jarabes poéticos. Además, señor, el zapatero critica mis endecasilabos, y el señor profesor de farmacia pone puntos y comas a mi inspiración. Señor, ¡y vos lo autorizáis todo esto...! El ideal, el ideal...

25The king interrupted:

El rey interrumpió:

26“You have heard him. What shall we do?”

—Ya habéis oído. ¿Qué hacer?

27And a philosopher of the fashionable kind:

Y un filósofo al uso:

28“If you allow it, Sire, he can earn his meals with a music box. We can put him in the garden, near the swans, for when you take your walks.”

—Si lo permitís, señor, puede ganarse la comida con una caja de música; podemos colocarle en el jardín, cerca de los cisnes, para cuando os paseéis.

29“Yes,” said the king, and, turning to the poet: “You will turn a crank. You will keep your mouth shut. You will play a music box that plays waltzes, quadrilles and galops, unless you would rather die of hunger. One piece of music for one piece of bread. No nonsense, and no ideals. Go.”

—Sí—dijo el rey; y dirigiéndose al poeta:—Daréis vueltas a un manubrio: Cerraréis la boca. Haréis sonar una caja de música que toca valses, cuadrillas y galopas, como no prefiráis moriros de hambre. Pieza de música por pedazo de pan. Nada de jerigonzas, ni de ideales. Id.

30And from that day on, at the edge of the swan pool, you could see the hungry poet turning the crank: tiririrín, tiririrín…ashamed in the eyes of the great sun! Did the king pass by? Tiririrín, tiririrín…! Was there a stomach to fill? Tiririrín! All of it among the jeering of the free birds that came to drink the dew on the flowering lilacs, among the buzzing of the bees that stung his face and filled his eyes with tears…bitter tears that rolled down his cheeks and fell to the black earth!

Y desde aquel día pudo verse a la orilla del estanque de los cisnes, al poeta hambriento que daba vueltas al manubrio; tiririrín, tiririrín... ¡avergonzado a las miradas del gran sol! ¿Pasaba el rey por las cercanías? ¡Tiririrín, tiririrín...! ¿Había que llenar el estómago? ¡Tiririrín! Todo entre las burlas de los pájaros libres que llegaban a beber rocío en las lilas floridas; entre el zumbido de las abejas que le picaban el rostro y le llenaban los ojos de lágrimas... ¡lágrimas amargas que rodaban por sus mejillas y que caían a la tierra negra!

31And winter came, and the poor man felt cold in his body and in his soul. His brain was like stone, the great hymns were forgotten, and the poet of the mountain crowned with eagles was nothing but a poor devil turning a crank: tiririrín.

Y llegó el invierno, y el pobre sintió frío en el cuerpo y en el alma. Y su cerebro estaba como petrificado, y los grandes himnos estaban en el olvido, y el poeta de la montaña coronada de águilas, no era sino un pobre diablo que daba vueltas al manubrio: tiririrín.

32And when the snow fell, the king and his subjects forgot about him. The birds were given shelter, and he was left to the icy air that bit his flesh and whipped his face.

Y cuando cayó la nieve se olvidaron de él el rey y sus vasallos; a los pájaros se les abrigó, y a él se le dejó el aire glacial que le mordía las carnes y le azotaba el rostro.

33And one night, when the white rain of tiny crystal feathers was falling, there was a feast in the palace. The light of the chandeliers laughed merrily on the marble, on the gold, and on the robes of the Chinese officials painted on the old porcelain. The toasts of the professor of rhetoric, stuffed with fancy poetic rhythms, were applauded like mad, while in the crystal glasses the champagne bubbled, bright and quick. Winter night, feast night! And the unhappy man, covered with snow, near the pool, kept turning the crank to keep warm, shivering and stiff with cold, insulted by the north wind, under the merciless frozen whiteness, in the dark night, making the crazy music of galops and quadrilles ring out among the bare trees. And there he died, thinking that the sun would rise the next day, and the ideal with it…and that art would not wear trousers but a cloak of flames or of gold…There he stayed until the next day, when the king and his courtiers found him: the poor devil of a poet, like a sparrow killed by the frost, with a bitter smile on his lips and his hand still on the crank.

Y una noche en que caía de lo alto la lluvia blanca de plumillas cristalizadas, en el palacio había festín, y la luz de las arañas reía alegre sobre los mármoles, sobre el oro y sobre las túnicas de los mandarines de las viejas porcelanas. Y se aplaudían hasta la locura los brindis del señor profesor de retórica, cuajados de dáctilos, de anapestos y de pirriquios, mientras en las copas cristalinas hervía el champaña con su burbujeo luminoso y fugaz. ¡Noche de invierno, noche de fiesta! Y el infeliz, cubierto de nieve, cerca del estanque, daba vueltas al manubrio para calentarse, tembloroso y aterido, insultado por el cierzo, bajo la blancura implacable y helada, en la noche sombría, haciendo resonar entre los árboles sin hojas la música loca de las galopas y cuadrillas; y se quedó muerto, pensando en que nacería el sol del día venidero, y con él el ideal... y en que el arte no vestiría pantalones sino manto de llamas o de oro... Hasta que al día siguiente lo hallaron el rey y sus cortesanos, al pobre diablo de poeta, como gorrión que mata el hielo, con una sonrisa amarga en los labios, y todavía con la mano en el manubrio.

34Oh, my friend! The sky is dull, the air is cold, the day is sad. Gray, misty moods drift by…

¡Oh, mi amigo! el cielo está opaco, el aire frío, el día triste. Flotan brumosas y grises melancolías...

35But how much a warm word can warm the soul, or a handshake at the right moment! Until next time.

Pero ¡cuánto calienta el alma una frase, un apretón de manos a tiempo! Hasta la vista.

Spanish text from Azul…, as kept by Project Gutenberg. One misprint corrected (“troncos” to “tronos,” thrones, in paragraph 5). English translation made for The People’s Share, 2026. Paragraph numbers are ours.

Part 2

Questions like the test’s

Four words the questions use

Irony. When what is said, or what happens, turns out to be the opposite of what was expected or meant. Calling a rainstorm “lovely weather” is ironic.

Tone. The attitude a writer takes toward what is being described: serious, mocking, admiring, sad. In writing, you hear it in the words chosen.

Narrator. The voice telling the story. Here the narrator speaks to a friend at the start and at the end, and tells the story in between.

Theme. An idea about life that the whole story shows.

Fourteen questions, in the kinds the test uses: choose one answer, choose two, choose from a drop-down, and put events in order. Press Check after each one. If you miss, the page tells you why the answer you chose is tempting, and you can try again.

1. In paragraph 1, the narrator promises his friend “a cheerful story.” Darío’s subtitle calls it “a happy song.” What do these words turn out to be?

2. Paragraph 2 lists the king’s riches and then asks: “Was he a poet king? No, my friend: he was the Bourgeois King.” What is the difference, as the story sees it?

3. In paragraph 3, the king rewards “his musicians, his makers of songs of praise, his painters, sculptors, druggists, barbers and fencing masters.” Why does the list go on to druggists, barbers and fencing masters?

4. Paragraph 5 describes the king’s palace, and twice stops for a two-word sentence: “Good taste.” “Refinement.” What is the tone of those short sentences?

5. At the end of paragraph 5, the king is called “a lover of sandpaper and of spelling.” What does this mean?

6. When the poet arrives, the narrator says: “The king had swans in the pool, and canaries, sparrows and mockingbirds in the birdhouse. A poet was something new and strange” (paragraph 13). What does this suggest about how the king sees the poet?

7. “Sire, I have not eaten.” “Speak, and you will eat” (paragraphs 16 to 18). What does this exchange show?

8. In paragraph 22, the poet says: “Art does not wear trousers, or talk like the bourgeois, or dot every i.” What does he mean?

9. The king sends the poet to the garden and says: “One piece of music for one piece of bread. No nonsense, and no ideals” (paragraph 29). What has the poet’s work become?

10. Choose the words that best complete the sentence. drop-down

When the snow falls, “the birds were given shelter,” and the poet is left outside (paragraph 32). This shows that the king values the poet .

11. Put these events in the order they happen. Choose 1 for the first and 6 for the last. put in order

A philosopher suggests a music box in the garden.
The king and his courtiers find the poet dead in the snow.
The poet is brought before the king’s throne.
The poet turns the crank while bees sting him and birds jeer.
The poet makes a long speech about art.
Winter comes, and the king and his subjects forget the poet.

12. Which two details from paragraph 33 show the palace enjoying itself while the poet freezes? choose two

13. The king finds the poet “like a sparrow killed by the frost…with his hand still on the crank” (paragraph 33). Why compare him to a sparrow?

14. Which sentence best states a theme of the story?

Part 3

For talking it over

These have no single right answer. They are for class, or for a friend, or for thinking about on your own. Each one has a hint, folded away, for anyone who wants a place to start.

  1. The king never decides to kill the poet. He forgets him. Is forgetting someone a kind of cruelty?
    A place to start

    Who in your city is forgotten in the winter? Who remembers to shelter the birds?

  2. “One piece of music for one piece of bread.” Have you done work where you were paid just enough to keep going, and told to keep your mouth shut? What did it do to you?
    A place to start

    Look at paragraph 31: “His brain was like stone, the great hymns were forgotten.”

  3. The poet’s speech is very grand: storms, eagles, a Messiah. Do you like him? Is Darío laughing at the poet a little, too?
    A place to start

    Read paragraphs 20 to 24 aloud. Then think about who is listening to them.

  4. The story begins and ends with the narrator talking to a friend on a gray, cold day. Why tell a sad story as if it were a cheerful one? What does the last paragraph say warms a person, when kings do not?
    A place to start

    Paragraph 35: “a warm word…or a handshake at the right moment.”

  5. Who pays artists and musicians today? Think of the subway musician, the wedding band, the song on your phone. Is anyone still turning a crank in a rich man’s garden?
  6. If you read Spanish: pick one sentence and compare it with the English. What did the translation keep? What did it lose?
    A place to start

    Try paragraph 29, or the sound tiririrín, which stays in Spanish in both.

Part 4

Write about it

Choose one of these and write in the box below. Put the number of the one you chose at the top. For the first one, aim for three or four paragraphs. The box saves your writing as you go, under your code, and you can send it to Myles when it is ready.

  1. 1. A cheerful story?

    The narrator calls this “a cheerful story.” Explain why that is ironic, and what Darío gains by calling it that. Use at least three details from the story, with their paragraph numbers.

    Start with your answer in one sentence. Then give each detail and say what it shows. End with what you think the irony adds.

  2. 2. Turning the crank

    Write about a time when your work was reduced to turning a crank: when what you had to give was not wanted, only your hands or your time.

    Tell it as a story, with a place and a moment in it. Then say what you understood about it afterward.

  3. 3. The poet’s speech, today

    Rewrite the poet’s speech (paragraphs 20 to 24) as a worker today might say it to a boss, in your own words.

    Keep what he is asking for. Change the eagles and the storms into things from your own working life.

☞ The skills in these questions are taught one at a time in the quizzes: Quiz 8, connotation and tone, and Quiz 9, figurative language. The next story on the shelf is “My Life with the Wave,” by Octavio Paz, from the same book of Latin American stories. Its questions include two about both stories together.

Answers to Part 2

1 B · 2 C · 3 A · 4 C · 5 A · 6 D · 7 C · 8 D · 9 A · 10 less than his birds · 11 (top to bottom) 3, 6, 1, 4, 2, 5 · 12 A and C · 13 C · 14 B