| Pablo Neruda -Oda al piano- |
| lunes, 21 de marzo de 2005 |
Oda al piano
Estaba triste el piano
en el concierto,
olvidado en su frac sepulturero,
y luego abrió la boca,
su boca de ballena:
entró el pianista al piano
volando como un cuervo,
algo pasó como si cayera
una piedra de plata
o una mano
a un estanque
escondido:
resbaló la dulzura
como la luvia
sobre una campana,
cayo la luz al fondo
de una casa cerrada,
una esmeralda recorrió el abismo
y sonó el mar,
la noche,
las praderas,
la gota del rocío,
el altísimo trueno,
cantó la arquitectura de la rosa,
rodó el silencio al leche de la aurora.
Así nació la música
del piano que moría
subió la vestidura
de la náyade
del catafalco
y de su dentadura
hasta que en el olvido
cayó el piano, el pianista
y el concierto,
y todo fue sonido,
torrencial elemento,
sistema puro, claro campanario.
Entonces volvió el hombre
del árbol de la musica.
Bajó volando como
cuervo perdido
o caballero loco:
cerró su boca de ballena el piano
y él anduvo hacia atrás,
hacia el silencio.
Ode to the piano
The piano was sad
during the concert,
forgotten in its gravedigger's coat,
and then it opened its mouth,
its whale's mouth:
the pianist entered the piano
flying like a crow;
something happened as if a stone
of silver fell
or a hand
into a hidden
pond:
the sweetness slid
like rain
over a bell,
the light fell to the bottom
of a locked house,
an emerald went across the abyss
and the sea sounded,
the night,
the meadows,
the dewdrop,
the deepest thunder,
the structure of the rose sang,
the milk of dawn surrounded the silence.
That's how the music was born
from the piano which was dying,
the garment
of the water-nymph
moved up over the coffin
and from its set of teeth
all unaware
the piano, the pianist
and the concert fell,
and everything became sound,
an elemental torrent,
a pure system, a clear bell ringing.
Then the man returned
from the tree of music.
He flew down like
a lost crow
or a crazy knight:
the piano closed its whale's mouth
and the pianist walked back from it
towards the silence.
Translated by Jodey BatemanEtiquetas: Pablo Neruda |
posted by Bishop @ 14:20  |
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| 1 Comments: |
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Ode to the piano
At the concert
the piano was sad,
ignored its gravedigger's black frock
and later opened its mouth,
its whale mouth;
the pianist entered the piano
like a crow flying,
something happened
as though a silver stone splashed
or a hand appeared from
a hidden pond:
a sweetness slid down
like rain
on a bell,
in the background light fell
from a closed-up house,
an emerald traveled through the depths
and the sea gave out its call,
as did the night,
the fields,
a drop of dew.
The lightning bolt on high,
the silent poetry of the rose rang out,
silence surrounded the bed of dawn.
Thus was music born
from the dying piano,
the naiad's robes
were lifted from the catafalque
and from its teeth
until the piano, the pianist
sank into oblivion
and the concert,
and all was sound,
torrential notes,
pure scale, clear bell.
Then the man returned
from the tree of music.
He came flying back down
like a lost crow
or a crazed horse;
the piano closed its whale's maw
and the man walked backwards
towards silence.
Translated by Carlos Reyes
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Ode to the piano
At the concert
the piano was sad,
ignored its gravedigger's black frock
and later opened its mouth,
its whale mouth;
the pianist entered the piano
like a crow flying,
something happened
as though a silver stone splashed
or a hand appeared from
a hidden pond:
a sweetness slid down
like rain
on a bell,
in the background light fell
from a closed-up house,
an emerald traveled through the depths
and the sea gave out its call,
as did the night,
the fields,
a drop of dew.
The lightning bolt on high,
the silent poetry of the rose rang out,
silence surrounded the bed of dawn.
Thus was music born
from the dying piano,
the naiad's robes
were lifted from the catafalque
and from its teeth
until the piano, the pianist
sank into oblivion
and the concert,
and all was sound,
torrential notes,
pure scale, clear bell.
Then the man returned
from the tree of music.
He came flying back down
like a lost crow
or a crazed horse;
the piano closed its whale's maw
and the man walked backwards
towards silence.
Translated by Carlos Reyes