| About this blog |
Poemas en Inglés es un blog que pretende acercar poemas de lengua inglesa al castellano |
| Sentences |
"Por principio, toda traducción es buena. En cualquier caso, pasa con ellas lo que con las mujeres: de alguna manera son necesarias, aunque no todas son perfectas" Augusto Monterroso -La palabra mágica-
"Es imposible traducir la poesía. ¿Acaso se puede traducir la música?" Voltaire
"Translating poetry is like making jewelry. Every word counts, and each sparkles with so many facets. Translating prose is like sculpting: get the shape and the lines right, then polish the seams later." James Nolan
"La traducción destroza el espíritu del idioma" Federico García Lorca |
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| Pablo Neruda -Soneto XC- |
| miércoles, 13 de abril de 2005 |
Soneto XC
Pensé morir, sentí de cerca el frío,
y de cuanto viví sólo a ti te dejaba:
tu boca eran mi día y mi noche terrestres
y tu piel la república fundada por mis besos.
En ese instante se terminaron los libros,
la amistad, los tesoros sin tregua acumulados,
la casa transparente que tú y yo construimos:
todo dejó de ser, menos tus ojos.
Porque el amor, mientras la vida nos acosa,
es simplemente una ola alta sobre las olas,
pero ay cuando la muerte viene a tocar a la puerta
hay sólo tu mirada para tanto vacío,
sólo tu claridad para no seguir siendo,
sólo tu amor para cerrar la sombra.
Sonnet 90
I thought I was dying, I felt the cold up close
and knew that from all my life I left only you behind:
my earthly day and night were your mouth,
your skin the republic my kisses founded.
In that instant the books stopped,
and friendship, treasure relentlessly amassed,
the transparent house that you and I built:
everything dropped away, except your eyes.
Because while life harasses us, love is
only a wave taller than the other waves:
but oh, when death comes knocking at the gate,
there is only your glance against so much emptiness,
only your light against extinction,
only your love to shut out the shadows.Etiquetas: Pablo Neruda |
posted by Bishop @ 2:30  |
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| 1 Comments: |
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Sonnet 90
I dreamt that I died: that I felt the cold close to me;
And all that was left of my life was contained in your presence:
Your mouth was the daylight and dark of my world,
Your skin the republic I shaped for myself with your kisses.
Straightway, the books of the world were all ended,
All friendships, all treasures restlessly cramming the vaults,
The diaphanous house that we built for a lifetime together –
All ceased to exist, till nothing remained but your eyes.
So long as we live, or as long as a lifetime’s vexation,
Love is a breaker thrown high on the breakers’ successions;
But when death in its time chooses to pummel the doors –
Ay! There is only your face to fill up the vacancy,
Only your clarity pressing back on the whole of non-being,
Only your love, where the dark of the world closes in.
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Sonnet 90
I dreamt that I died: that I felt the cold close to me;
And all that was left of my life was contained in your presence:
Your mouth was the daylight and dark of my world,
Your skin the republic I shaped for myself with your kisses.
Straightway, the books of the world were all ended,
All friendships, all treasures restlessly cramming the vaults,
The diaphanous house that we built for a lifetime together –
All ceased to exist, till nothing remained but your eyes.
So long as we live, or as long as a lifetime’s vexation,
Love is a breaker thrown high on the breakers’ successions;
But when death in its time chooses to pummel the doors –
Ay! There is only your face to fill up the vacancy,
Only your clarity pressing back on the whole of non-being,
Only your love, where the dark of the world closes in.