| 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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| Juan Boscán -Soneto- Como aquel que en soñar gusto recibe...- |
| sábado, 4 de noviembre de 2006 |
Soneto
Como aquel que en soñar gusto recibe...
Como aquel que en soñar gusto recibe,
su gusto procediendo de locura,
así el imaginar con su figura
vanamente su gozo en mí concibe.
Otro bien en mí, triste, no se escribe,
si no es aquel que en mi pensar procura;
de cuanto ha sido hecho en mi ventura
lo sólo imaginado es lo que vive.
Teme mi corazón de ir adelante,
viendo estar su dolor puesto en celada;
y así revuelve atrás en un instante
a contemplar su gloria ya pasada.
¡Oh sombra de remedio inconstante,
ser en mí lo mejor lo que no es nada!
Sonnet
Like one receiving pleasure from a dream...
Like one receiving pleasure from a dream,
his pleasure thus proceeding from delusion,
so does imagination with illusions
conceive in vain its happiness in me.
No other good's inscribed on my sad heart,
except what in my thoughts I might procure;
of all the good I ever have endured,
what lives is only the imagined part.
My heart is frightened to proceed ahead,
seeing that its pain in ambush lies;
and so after a moment it turns back
to contemplate those glories that have fled.
Oh, shadow of relief, that fickle flies,
to make what's best in me be what I lack!
Translated Alix IngberEtiquetas: Juan Boscán |
posted by Bishop @ 14:00  |
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| 1 Comments: |
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SONNET
LIKE ONE WHO IN DREAMS RECEIVES PLEASURE...
Like one who in dreams receives pleasure,
his pleasure proceeding from delirium,
so imagination with its figments
vainly invents its pleasures in me.
No good thing is inscribed on my sad heart,
except what I gain from my thoughts;
of all the good things that have happened to me
only the imaginary part is alive.
My heart fears to go forward,
seeing that its pain is lying in ambush,
and so it retires in an instant
to contemplate its past happiness.
Oh, what a fleeting shadow of help it is,
that what is best in me is nothing?
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SONNET
LIKE ONE WHO IN DREAMS RECEIVES PLEASURE...
Like one who in dreams receives pleasure,
his pleasure proceeding from delirium,
so imagination with its figments
vainly invents its pleasures in me.
No good thing is inscribed on my sad heart,
except what I gain from my thoughts;
of all the good things that have happened to me
only the imaginary part is alive.
My heart fears to go forward,
seeing that its pain is lying in ambush,
and so it retires in an instant
to contemplate its past happiness.
Oh, what a fleeting shadow of help it is,
that what is best in me is nothing?