Spanish Poems





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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
Jorge Luis Borges -Ajedrez-
miércoles, 13 de diciembre de 2006
Ajedrez

I
En su grave rincón, los jugadores
rigen las lentas piezas. El tablero
los demora hasta el alba en su severo
ámbito en que se odian dos colores.
Adentro irradian mágicos rigores
las formas: torre homérica, ligero
caballo, armada reina, rey postrero,
oblicuo alfil y peones agresores.
Cuando los jugadores se hayan ido,
cuando el tiempo los haya consumido,
ciertamente no habrá cesado el rito.
En el Oriente se encendió esta guerra
cuyo anfiteatro es hoy toda la tierra.
Como el otro, este juego es infinito.

II
Tenue rey, sesgo alfil, encarnizada
reina, torre directa y peon ladino
sobre lo negro y blanco del camino
buscan y libran su batalla armada.
No saben que la mano señalada
del jugador gobierna su destino,
no saben que un rigor adamantino
sujeta su albedrío y su jornada.
También el jugador es prisionero
(la sentencia es de Omar) de otro tablero
de negras noches y blancos días.
Dios mueve al jugador, y éste, la pieza.
¿Qué Dios detrás de Dios la trama empieza
de polvo y tiempo y sueño y agonías?


Chess

1
In their solemn corner, the players
govern the lingering pieces. The chessboard
delays them until daybreak in its severe
sphere in which colors are hateful.
Inside they radiate magical severity
the forms: Homeric tower, light
horse, armed queen, last king,
oblique bishop and attacking pawns.
When the players will have gone,
when time will have consumed them,
certainly the ritual will have not ceased.
In the Orient this war was lit
which amphitheater is today all the earth.
As the other, this game is infinite.

2
Fainting king, slanting bishop, fierce
queen, straightforward tower and cunning pawn
on the black and white path
searching and fighting their armed battle.
They ignore the player’s pointing hand
governs his destiny,
they ignore that a tamed severity
holds his will and day.
The player is himself a prisoner
(the sentence is Omar’s) of another board
of dark nights and light days.
God moves the player, and he, the chess piece.
Which God behind God begins the conspiracy
of dust and time and dream and agony?

Translated by Blanca Lista

Etiquetas:

posted by Bishop @ 11:20  
2 Comments:
  • At 13 de junio de 2007, 20:59, Blogger Bishop said…

    CHESS (II)
    Faint-hearted king, sly bishop, ruthless queen,
    Straightforward castle, and deceitful pawn -
    Over the checkered black and white terrain
    They seek out and begin their armed campaign.

    They do not know it is the player’s hand
    That dominates and guides their destiny.
    They do not know an adamantine fate
    Controls their will and lays the battle plan.

    The player too is captive of caprice
    (The words are Omar’s) on another ground
    Where black nights alternate with whiter days.

    God moves the players, he in turn the piece.
    But what god beyond God begins the round
    Of dust and time and sleep and agonies?

     
  • At 28 de junio de 2007, 5:31, Blogger Bishop said…

    CHESS

    I
    Each in his corner, the players
    Govern their slow pieces. The board
    Keeps them till dawn in its severe
    Ambit of two-color hate.

    Within irradiate magic rigors
    Of form: Rook Homeric, light
    Knight, armed Queen, final King,
    Oblique Bishop and aggressor Pawns.

    When the players are done
    And time has consumed them,
    The rite will not have ceased.

    In the East this war caught fire,
    The whole world its amphitheater now.
    Like that other one, this game is infinite.



    II
    Tenuous King, slant Bishop, furious
    Queen, direct Rook and crafty Pawn
    Upon the black-and-white of the way
    Seek and engage their armed battle.

    They do not know the signal hand
    Of the player governs their destiny,
    That an adamantine rigor
    Subjects their fancy and their journey.

    The player too is a prisoner
    (The sentence is Omar's) of another board
    Of black nights and white days.

    God moves the player, he the piece.
    What God-hid god the weft begins
    Of dust and time and dream and agonies?

    Translated by Christopher Mulrooney

     
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