Margit Frenk, a light that never went out

On November 21, 2025, the Hispanist and philologist passed away at the age of one hundred. Margit FrenkHis death has been reported by very few Spanish publications, among them the magazine Free letters, which is published in digital and print format in Mexico and Spain, and also in two digital formats, CTXT (Context), with offices in Madrid, and AISO (International Association Golden Age)We must thank those who wrote the respective articles for remembering the teacher. Luis Fernando Lara, Miguel Martínez y José Manuel Pedrosa.

As far as we know, nothing has been said in the mainstream national media, where they usually report on even the slightest cold afflicting a football star or the latest gaffe by the politician of the day. Nothing surprises us anymore about the disconnect between Spain and its sister countries across the Atlantic. To give an example, a book published in Spain and distributed in Latin America faces bureaucratic hurdles that significantly increase its cost, something that hadn't happened for three decades, when the publishing market between the two shores flowed with ease. A consequence of this estrangement is... the almost total silence regarding Frenk's death.

We are on a portal of flamenco And so, a question arises: what makes the disappearance of the eminent Mexican philologist worthy of a few lines here? This article attempts to answer that question.

Let's begin with some very brief biographical notes that anyone can expand upon without too much effort (the three obituaries cited are highly recommended). Margit Frenk Freund was born in Hamburg on August 21, 1925, daughter of Dr. Ernst Frenk and the writer and translator Marianne Helen Freund Frenk-Westheim, both Jewish – the real surname of Ernst was Cohn—who professed no religion. The couple soon realized what was coming and, thanks to this foresight, went into exile before the Nazis came to power. Thus, they went to Mexico, where they disembarked in Veracruz on April 22, 1930. There they would develop their respective professional careers and also be able to give their two children an excellent education. The eldest, SilvestreShe would follow in her father's footsteps, and Margit, in her mother's. "I'm resentful. I can't forget what happened," our protagonist recalled not long ago.

 

 

Margit Frenk studied at the Faculty of Philosophy of the UNAM and earned her master's degree at the University of Berkeley. In 1972 she received her doctorate in linguistics and Hispanic literatures from the College of Mexico, with the thesis The Mozarabic jarchas and the beginnings of Romance lyric poetryHe always considered the professor from Granada to be one of his main teachers. José Fernández-Montesinos Lustau, also exiled in Mexico (his brother Manuel, who was mayor of Granada, was shot two days before that Federico Garcia Lorca(his brother-in-law).

Frenk's bibliography is extensive, and a significant portion of it deals with traditional lyric poetry. He signed his early books as Margit Frenk Alatorre, as a result of her marriage to the Mexican philologist Antonio Alatorre ChávezAfter their separation, she used only her first surname. Frenk's unpretentious precision, wit, and vast erudition were in no way at odds with the humor and engaging style of his writing. Reading any of his works is a breath of fresh air and a great pleasure for the reader.

This isn't the place to delve into his extensive body of work, but I'd like to highlight three titles. One is the delightful Hispanic lyric poetry of a popular type: Middle Ages and Renaissance (Mexico: National Autonomous University of Mexico, 1966). Another is the one that compiles various articles that were scattered, Hispanic popular poetry: 44 studies (Mexico: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2006). Wherever you open it, you will find a stimulating read, far removed from any academic ponderousness, without sacrificing rigor.

 

"This supports the theory that the flamenco It is a refined style that began in the Golden Age and started to crystallize in the 19th century, at the height of Romanticism. If, with regard to music, we know that the rhythms, tones, and harmonies of dances such as folías, canarios, jácaras, zarabandas, and chaconas, among others, would underpin later styles such as fandangos, tanguillos, peteneras, guajiras, and soleares, in the...cante Something similar will happen to the letters."

 

I've left the work I want to focus on until last. It's the monumental New corpus of ancient Hispanic popular lyric poetry: 15th to 17th centuries (Mexico: National Autonomous University of Mexico / El Colegio de México / Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2003), more than two thousand pages spread over two volumes that substantially expand its Corpus of early Hispanic popular lyric poetry. 15th to 17th centuries (Madrid: Castalia, 1987).

The Mexican author presents 2.685 lyrics, citing variants, contexts, correspondences, and parallels with other Romance languages, as well as surviving examples. She also reports on the various sources in which they appear. Needless to say, this is an absolutely essential work for anyone interested—whether a scholar or a casual enthusiast—in traditional lyric poetry, complementing her previous works. Julio Cejador, Menéndez Pidal, Sánchez Romeralo, Dámaso Alonso, Galmés de Fuentes, José Manuel Blecua, José María Alín, Vicente Beltrán And a long etcetera.

 

 

Many of the lyrics found in this corpus deal with themes that are common in the canteSome have even survived to the present day with few variations. This supports the increasingly accepted theory that the flamenco It is a refined style that began in the Golden Age and started to crystallize in the 19th century, at the height of Romanticism. If, with regard to music, we know that the rhythms, tones, and harmonies of dances such as folías, canarios, jácaras, zarabandas, and chaconas, among others, would underpin later styles such as fandangos, tanguillos, peteneras, guajiras, and soleares, in the...cante Something similar will happen with lyrics. The emergence of seguidillas and octosyllabic couplets at the end of the 16th century and their definitive establishment in the 18th century was decisive for the birth of a new aesthetic that would nourish the cante flamenco which, as is well known, uses such meters extensively. Frenk explained it with crystal clarity in Spanish lyric poetry of a popular type (Madrid: Cátedra, 1992, p. 23):

 

"Such was the force of the fashion that the seguidilla, widespread throughout Spain, displaced the ancient forms of musical lyric folklore. Along with the octosyllabic quatrain, equally ancient in form and modern in spirit, the seguidilla reigned supreme over the popular poetry of subsequent centuries. Thus, within the very heart of the literature that embraced the medieval folk song, the poetry that ended it was born. And it ended it radically, leaving behind only a vague memory, a few exceptional relics."

 

I recommend it to fans of flamenco that they dive into these two volumes to fish –the word is appropriate– for verses that refer to the flamencoThat bonuscante The exercise is what I'm going to do next, sticking only to the first two hundred of the New corpus by Margit Frenk. Let's go.

In Collection of Sonnets and Christmas Carols in Four and Five Voices by Juan VasquezIn 1560, we find a beautiful lyric inspired by a saying that was collected earlier by Marquis of Santillana en Sayings that old women tell by the fire (“One hand to the other, wash, and both to the face”). It is number 2 of the New corpus from Frenk:

 

At the rosebush fountain
They wash the girl and the young man.

At the clear water fountain
They wash their faces with their hands.

He to her and she to him
[They wash the girl and the young man].

 

 

We find the same saying in a bulería sung by the man from Utrera. Manuel de Angustias (Cantes from Utrera and Alcalá, Ariola, 1971):

 

Wow, that's really strange.
One hand washes the other,
The two of them were washing their faces.

 

Frenk's No. 30 is included in manuscript ms. α.Q.8.21 of the Estense University Library of Modena, which dates from the late 16th and early 17th centuries:

 

Long live grace, long live it!
Long live blind love!

 

In modern times, in the traditional Christmas carol of The Virgin and the Blind ManThe refrain “Long live love!” is sung, alternating with “Long live the laurel!” But the old lyrics are more reminiscent of a finale recorded by Mairena On the disk Seville by bulerías (Columbia, 1967), perhaps of his authorship:

 

Long live grace, long live the salt shaker!
You fell in love with a basket weaver!

 

In the same songbook is found the redondilla (no. 44 by Frenk):

 

Nothing can prevail against love.
that if it touches the heart,
even if they try to silence him,
He's so handsome he practically leaps out of his eyes.

 

It is a topic present in a soleá that he recorded Uncle Borrico with his nephew Parrilla (RCA, 1974):

 

Make signs to me with your eyes,
that on some occasions
The eyes serve as the tongue.

 

At the Vocabulary of sayings and proverbial phrases de Gonzalo Correas (1627) this quatrain is found (no. 64 of Frenk):

 

I was in my studio
studying the lesson,
I remembered my loves:
I couldn't study, no.

 

Such an inability to concentrate caused by love is glimpsed in a soleá that she sang Fernanda (Cante flamencoFernanda and Bernarda de Utrera in concert in Paris, Ocora, 1987):

 

I don't want you to go to mass
nor to the mass I used to attend,
Neither you pray nor did I pray
nor do we have devotion.

 

En A collection of several new romances and songs compiled by Pedro de Moncayo, dated in Huesca in 1589, we read (no. 92 of Frenk):

 

Lucia sighed
yesterday while washing:
I wish I could fly after him,
to find out where to send it!

 

They are the same sighs of a five-line stanza that was sung Phosphorite, for joys, and Rafael the One-Eyed, by trial and error (neither of them recorded it on a record), and that he recorded Joaquín the Basket Maker by fandangos (Emi, 1972):

 

If at midnight in your bed
You wake up in a cold sweat,
For God's sake, don't panic!
which are my sighs
that they call you at midnight.

 

 

The comparison of the beloved to natural elements is common in traditional lyric poetry. An example of this is this lyric (no. 100 bis by Frenk) collected in the Valencian musical songbook (copied between 1560 and 1582):

 

How beautiful you are, girl!
but you give me a life of suffering.

You are prettier than the meadow
green, flowery and pomegranate;
more than all my cattle
I love you and to my flock.

 

The first verses of another song, usually sung at the verdiales festival and recorded by The Lebrijano by soleá (It's in his blood... El Lebrijano presents his mother, La Perrata, Philips, 1970):

 

You are more beautiful than the sun
and that the snow in the desert,
than the rose on the rosebush
than the lily in the garden.

 

Who doesn't remember the seguiriya cabal that the old man recorded? Moron pliers after winning the Contest Cante Jondo from Granada (Silverio's Seguidilla, Odeon, 1922)?:

 

I've been to France,
Seville and Portugal
And a face like yours
I haven't been able to find it.

 

We have a correspondence with letter number 111 of New corpus by Margit Frenk, which comes in the aforementioned Compilation… by Juan Vasquez, from 1560:

 

Such eyes as you
nan os ay en Portugal.

All of Portugal andey,
never such holes achey.

 

A song in the style of a bulería that he recorded Pansequito and signed by the singer himself, José Ruiz Venegas y P. Carrasco It was quite popular in its time (Pansequito, Movieplay, 1978):

 

How can you love me?
With your fifteen years,
if in the past the girls
at your age
Were they playing hide-and-seek?

 

This precocity of the girl in love has its counterpart in another of Fifth quadrangle of several romances, dated in Valencia in 1593 (no. 118 of Frenk):

 

Fifteen-year-old girl
that captivates and ignites
What will God do?
when I'm twenty!

 

A soleá that he recorded Pepe the Matron in 1947 for the private collection of García Matos and published years later (Tribute to Pepe de La Matrona, A&B Master Records, 1990) is:

 

(They say that) The villa is worth,
the villa is worth money
And your eyes are like two streams.

 

We can link it to an old one that is recorded in the Songbook of heartthrobs, from 1520 (Frenk No. 128):

 

My little eyes, mother,
They are worth a city.

My little eyes, mother,
both are clear,
every time I lift them
They deserve ducats.
Ducados, my mother.
They are worth a city.

My little eyes, mother,
They are so true,
every time I lift them
They deserve money.
Money, my mother.
They are worth a city.

 

Two old seguidillas have a similar theme. One uses it. Lope de Vega in his comedy To serve a discreet gentleman, published in 1618 (no. 176 of Frenk), and another is found in the Songbook of Jacinto López, manuscript dated 1620 in Madrid (no. 179 of Frenk). They are respectively:

 

They call me Mariquita.
the muleteers;
They call me Ladybug,
I'm going with them.

I want to leave, my love,
I want to go with him,
a little while
with the merchant.

 

They remind us of some flamenco lyrics, such as that of a famous tango recorded by The Girl with the Combs (Wax-colored, sea, His Master's Voice, 1950) and a soleá that he sang Dog from Utrera but which he never recorded. They are, respectively, these two:

 

A lacemaker passes by,
Mom, I'm going with him
who has a lot of charm.

Mother, I'm going with him
what if he doesn't have money
He has cloth to sell.

 

Perrate also sang this last one in the style of bulerías and first verse The voice of a cloth merchant sounds.

In the salad of Pedro de Padilla I went for a walk, which is included in its Treasure of various poems (Madrid, 1580), we find this little verse (no. 190 A):

 

If they call me, they call me:
guinea pig, they call me.

 

It is quite similar to two others that Mairena recorded in separate sets of bulerías in The Great History of Cante Andalusian Gypsy (Columbia, 1966):

 

If she calls me, it's my mother calling me.
Let her call me, call me.

They're calling me, they're calling me.
with a tissue from the nose.

 

From a very young age, La Niña de los Peines sang a playful little song in the bulerías style. She recorded it for the first time with Ramon Montoya (Bulerías nº1, 1909):

 

Oh mama, oh mama!
like Periquito wants to hit me.

 

It is very similar to this other one (no. 196 by Frenk), with the same meter, which can be found in several sources, including in Sayings, or proverbs in Romance that Commander Hernán Núñez collected and glossed (Salamanca, 1555):

 

Mother, to marry, to marry,
that Çarapico wants to take me away.

 

In the first 200 letters of Frenk's corpus, a few more could have been gleaned, but this is not the place to elaborate too much. Nevertheless, I will mention two more that appear later and have come down to us with few changes. One is very well known and was collected in 1626. Luis de Briceño at their Very easy method to learn to play the guitar in Spanish (Frenk No. 2.285):

 

Down the street
the one I love the most;
I can't see his face
with the hat.

 

 

Many flamenco singers have performed it as bulerías, such as Manolo Caracol (Jerez festival, Columbia, 1945) and Chano Lobato (Scent, Catwalk, 1987).

This other verse is by a known author and passed into the traditional repertoire with hardly any changes (no. 2.595 of Frenk). It is by the poet Antonio Hurtado de Mendoza (1586-1644) said so well:

 

Don't run, proud stream,
which is not your eternal wealth,
that if winter hit you,
It will take away your summer.

 

That's how the brilliant sang it in fandangos. Antonio de la Calza (fandangos, Sonoplay, 1968):

 

Arroyo, don't run so fast,
Look, you are not eternal,
Summer arrives and takes you away
what that beautiful winter gave you,
Your water was cursed.

 

We conclude with an example of a phrase that has come down to us embedded in a flamenco song. In the aforementioned Song book of the court musician Jacinto López is (Frenk No. 2.181):

 

Put the cape on the roof rack
the lovestruck little monkey,
throw the cape over the cow;
the cow's cape has been torn.

 

In 1908, The Garrido of Jerez He recorded a tango-chufla with lyrics using that same onomatopoeic play on words. The version by Pepe the Matron, who also performed it as tangos (on the aforementioned 1947 record and also in Treasures of the flamenco old, Hispavox, 1969):

 

Passing through Nueva Street
And a little cow grabbed me,
for throwing the cape at the cow,
The cow tore my cape.

 

Everything mentioned is just a tiny sample of the treasures we can find in this colossal work by Margit Frenk, an exemplary woman we should always remember. As happened to Graciana, my friend's grandmother Henry Navarro...whose eyes, even at a hundred years old, still held a special sparkle. They were worth their weight in gold. ♦