| José Martí -El padre suizo- |
| martes, 12 de julio de 2005 |
El padre suizo
Dicen que un suizo, de cabello rubio
Y ojos secos y cóncavos, mirando
Con desolado amor a sus tres hijos,
Besó sus pies, sus manos, sus delgadas,
Secas, enfermas, amarillas manos;
Y súbito, tremendo, cual airado
Tigre que al cazador sus hijos roba,
Dio con los tres, y con sí mismo luego,
En hondo pozo y los robó a la vida!
Dicen que el bosque iluminó radiante
Una rojiza luz, y que a la boca
Del pozo oscuro-sueltos los cabellos,
Cual corona de llamas que al monarca
Doloroso, al humano, sólo al borde
Del antro funeral la sien desciñe-,
La mano ruda a un tronco seco asida,
Contra el pecho huesoso, que sus uñas
Misma sajaron, los hijuelos mudos
Por su brazo sujetos, como en noche
De tempestad las aves en su nido,
El alma a Dios, los ojos a la selva,
Retaba el suizo al cielo, y en su torno
Pareció que la tierra iluminaba
Luz de héroe, y que el reino de la sombra
La muerte de un gigante estremecía!
¡Padre sublime, espíritu supremo
Que por salvar los delicados hombros
de sus hijuelos, de la carga dura
De la vida sin fe, sin patria, torva
Vida sin fin seguro y cauce abierto,
Sobre sus hombros colosales puso
De su crimen feroz la carga horrenda!
Los árboles temblaban, y en su pecho
Huesoso, los seis ojos espantados
De los pálidos niños, seis estrellas
Para guiar al padre iluminadas,
Por el reino del crimen, parecían!
¡Ve, bravo! Ve, gigante! Ve, amoroso
Loco! Y las venenosas zarzas pisa
Que roen como tósigos las plantas
Del criminal, en el dominio lóbrego
Donde andan sin cesar los asesinos!
¡Ve!-que las seis estrellas luminosas
Te seguirán, y te guiarán, y ayuda
A tus hombros darán cuantos hubieren
Bebido el vino amargo de la vida!
The swiss father
They say that a blond Swiss,
With dry, hollow eyes, overwhelmed
By desolate love for his three sons,
Kissed their feet, their hands, their thin,
Dry, flaccid, sallow hands, and suddenly,
Filled with enormous rage, like an angry
Tiger carrying away the hunter’s children,
Threw all three, and himself after,
Into a deep well — and robbed them of their lives!
They say that the forest was lit
With a reddish glow, and that at the mouth
Of the dark well — his hair loose, like a crown of flames
That the grieving king, become human,
Only loosens from his brow as he enters the tomb —
His calloused hand clutching a dry stump —
His silent children, their nails digging
Into his stony breast, held fast by his arm, like birds
In the nest clustered together on a stormy night —
His soul given over to God and his eye to the waste,
That Swiss raised his fist to the heavens, and a hero’s light
Appeared to illumine the earth around him,
And the realm of shadows was shaken
By the death of a giant!
Sublime father, incomparable spirit,
Who to spare the delicate shoulders of his sons
The heavy burden of a life
Without faith, without country, a joyless life
Without clear course or certain goal,
On his own colossal shoulders took
The terrible burden of his savage crime!
The trees quaked, and on his stony breast
The six frightened eyes
Of his pallid sons were like six
Bright stars guiding their father’s pathway
Through the dominion of crime!
Hero, giant, loving
Madman, go! and trample
The venomous brambles whose poison
Torments the feet of criminals in the dark kingdom
Where murderers pace without end!
Go — that the six bright stars
May follow, and guide you, and that those
Who have drunk of the bitter wine of life
May ease your burden!
Translated by Mark WeissEtiquetas: José Martí |
posted by Bishop @ 11:00  |
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