| Gabriela Mistral -Volverlo a ver- |
| miércoles, 8 de junio de 2005 |
Volverlo a ver
¿Y nunca, nunca más, ni en noches llenas
de temblor de astros, ni en las alboradas
vírgenes, ni en las tardes inmoladas?
¿Al margen de ningún sendero pálido,
que ciñe el campo, al margen de ninguna
fontana trémula, blanca de luna?
¿Bajo las trenzaduras)de la selva,
donde llamándolo me ha anochecido,
ni en la gruta que vuelve mi alarido?
¡Oh,!no! ¡Volverlo a)ver, no importa dónde,
en remansos de cielo o en vórtice hervidor,
bajo unas lunas plácidas o en un cárdeno horror!
¡Y ser con él todas las primaveras
y los inviernos, en un angustiado
nudo, en torno a su cuello ensaggrentado!
To see him again
Never, never again?
Not on nights filled with quivering stars,
or during dawn's maiden brightness
or afternoons of sacrifice?
Or at the edge of a pale path
that encircles the farmlands,
or upon the rim of a trembling fountain,
whitened by a shimmering moon?
Or beneath the forest's
luxuriant, raveled tresses
where, calling his name,
I was overtaken by the night?
Not in the grotto that returns
the echo of my cry?
Oh no. To see him again --
it would not matter where --
in heaven's deadwater
or inside the boiling vortex,
under serene moons or in bloodless fright!
To be with him...
every springtime and winter,
united in one anguished knot
around his bloody neck!Etiquetas: Gabriela Mistral |
posted by Bishop @ 15:10  |
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| 1 Comments: |
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TO SEE HIM AGAIN
And shall it never be again, never? Not on nights filled
with trembling of stars, or by the pure light
of virginal dawns, or on afternoons of immolation?
Never, at the edge of any pale pathway
that borders the field, or beside any
tremulous fountain white under the moon?
Never, beneath the entangled tresses of the forest
where, calling out to him, night descended on me?
Nor in the cavern that returns my echoing outcry?
Oh, no! Just to see him again, no matter where--
in little patches of sky or in the seething vortex,
beneath placid moons or in a livid horror!
And, together with him, to be all springtimes
and all winters, entwined in one anguished knot
around his blood-stained neck!
Translated by Doris Dana
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TO SEE HIM AGAIN
And shall it never be again, never? Not on nights filled
with trembling of stars, or by the pure light
of virginal dawns, or on afternoons of immolation?
Never, at the edge of any pale pathway
that borders the field, or beside any
tremulous fountain white under the moon?
Never, beneath the entangled tresses of the forest
where, calling out to him, night descended on me?
Nor in the cavern that returns my echoing outcry?
Oh, no! Just to see him again, no matter where--
in little patches of sky or in the seething vortex,
beneath placid moons or in a livid horror!
And, together with him, to be all springtimes
and all winters, entwined in one anguished knot
around his blood-stained neck!
Translated by Doris Dana