| Francisco de Quevedo -A Roma sepultada en sus ruinas- |
| lunes, 20 de septiembre de 2004 |
A Roma sepultada en sus ruinas
Buscas en Roma a Roma, ¡oh, peregrino!,
y en Roma misma a Roma no la hallas;
cadáver son las que ostentó murallas,
y tumba de sí proprio el Aventino.
Yace donde reinaba el Palatino;
y limadas del tiempo, las medallas
más se muestran destrozo a las batallas
de las edades que blasón latino.
Sólo el Tibre quedó, cuya corriente,
si ciudad la regó, ya, sepoltura,
la llora con funesto son doliente.
¡Oh, Roma!, en tu grandeza, en tu hermosura,
huyó lo que era firme, y solamente
lo fugitivo permanece y dura.
To Rome buried in its ruins
You search in Rome for Rome, oh wanderer!,
and yet in Rome itself you don't find Rome:
the walls boasting its fame are now a corpse,
the Aventine now serves as its own tomb.
It lies now where the Palatine once reigned;
and its medallions, worn away by time,
show more the devastation of the battles
of the ages than great Latium's pride.
Only the Tiber has remained, whose flow,
if once a city watered, now, a grave,
it mourns for her with brokenhearted tones.
Oh Rome!, of all your greatness, your allure,
that which was firm has fled, and nothing but
what is elusive stays and will endure.
Translated by Alix IngberEtiquetas: Francisco de Quevedo |
posted by Bishop @ 12:20  |
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TO ROME, SEPULCHRED IN HER RUINS
You search in Rome for Rome - oh, peregrine! -
and Rome in Rome itself you cannot find;
the walls she flaunted gape as corpses blind,
its own sepulture is the Aventine.
There lies, where once he reigned, the Palatine;
and Time has rasped her medals down, so that
they look more like the relics of combat
in ages gone than great Latium’s signs.
Only the Tiber yet endures, whose current,
As it once washed the city, now bemoans the
tomb with tones sepulchrally susurrant.
Rome! In your beauty, your magnificence,
All that stood strong and firm has flown, and only
the fugitive remains with permanence.
Translated by Michael Haldane
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TO ROME, SEPULCHRED IN HER RUINS
You search in Rome for Rome - oh, peregrine! -
and Rome in Rome itself you cannot find;
the walls she flaunted gape as corpses blind,
its own sepulture is the Aventine.
There lies, where once he reigned, the Palatine;
and Time has rasped her medals down, so that
they look more like the relics of combat
in ages gone than great Latium’s signs.
Only the Tiber yet endures, whose current,
As it once washed the city, now bemoans the
tomb with tones sepulchrally susurrant.
Rome! In your beauty, your magnificence,
All that stood strong and firm has flown, and only
the fugitive remains with permanence.
Translated by Michael Haldane