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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
Garcilaso de la Vega -Soneto XXIII. En tanto que de rosa...-
viernes, 14 de noviembre de 2003
Soneto XXIII. En tanto que de rosa...

En tanto que de rosa y azucena
se muestra la color en vuestro gesto,
y que vuestro mirar ardiente, honesto
enciende el corazón y lo refrena;

y en tanto que el cabello, que en la vena
del oro se escogió, con vuelo presto,
por el hermoso cuello blanco, enhiesto,
el viento mueve, esparce y desordena;

coged de vuestra alegre primavera
el dulce fruto, antes que el tiempo airado
cubra de nieve la hermosa cumbre.

Marchitará la rosa el viento helado,
todo lo mudará la edad ligera,
por no hacer mudanza en su costumbre.


Sonnet XXIII. So long as of red rose...

So long as of red rose and lily white
the proper colors of your face now show,
and your impassioned, fervent, honest glance
inflames the heart and holds it close in tow;

and so long as your hair, which in a vein
of gold was mined, endowed with rapid flight,
around your lovely white, and haughty throat
the wind can still move, scatter, and uncomb;

go, pluck now from the spring of your delight
the sweetest fruit, before the angry years
can wrap the lovely peak in snowy scenes.

The icy wind will cause the rose to wilt,
and all things will be changed by fickle time,
so as to never change its own routine.

Translated by Alix Ingber

Etiquetas:

posted by Bishop @ 10:23  
4 Comments:
  • At 26 de julio de 2007, 12:14, Blogger Bishop said…

    SONNET XXIII. WHILE ROSE'S CHARMING BLUSH...

    While rose's charming blush and lily's white
    Are still the colours radiant on your face,
    And while your fiery gaze with candid grace
    Still checks the burning flame it set alight,

    And while your flaxen hair, still gleaming bright,
    Mined from some vein of gold, falls out of place
    (Your neck - that marble pillar! - to embrace)
    By wayward breezes spread and set in flight,

    The ripening harvest of your happy spring
    Now gather in, before destructive Time
    Lays waste with snow the summit of your head.

    Cold winds will blast the rose now in its prime,
    And fickle Age will alter everything,
    So not to change his own old ways instead.

    Translated by Alan Crooke

     
  • At 26 de julio de 2007, 12:16, Blogger Bishop said…

    SONNET XXIII. WHILE OF RED ROSE...
    (alternate version)

    While of red rose and lily white
    the colors of your face now show
    and your impassioned, honest glance
    the heart inflames and holds in tow;

    and while your hair, which in a vein
    of gold was mined, with rapid flight
    around your white, and haughty throat
    the wind moves, scatters, and uncombs;

    go, pluck now from your happy spring
    the sweetest fruit, ere angry time
    covers with snow the lovely peak.

    The icy wind will wilt the rose:
    to make no change in its routine
    age, fickle, alters everything.

    Translated by Alix Ingber

     
  • At 26 de julio de 2007, 12:18, Blogger Bishop said…

    SONNET XXIII. WHILE YET THE LILY AND THE ROSE...

    While yet the lily and the rose
    display their colours in your cheek,
    your fiery glance, though often meek,
    conquers and burns where'er it goes;

    while yet your hair, from finest seams
    the choicest gold, that wanton air
    may scatter and toss about your fair
    white throat, in quick disorder streams;

    enjoy your gay spring's sweetest fruit
    before stern Time's relentless snows
    have blanched the beauty of your head.

    The icy wind will fade the rose,
    Immutably, Time must transmute
    and how may swift Age be gainsaid?

    Translated by Nick Mascall

     
  • At 26 de julio de 2007, 12:20, Blogger Bishop said…

    SONNET XXIII. AS LONG AS THE COLORS OF THE ROSE...

    As long as the colors of the rose
    and the lily play across your face,
    and as long as your ardent gaze
    ignites the heart that it reins and slows;

    as long as the breeze lightly blows
    through your hair, where gold seams interlace,
    and moves, flutters and tangles it with grace
    as round your pretty, long white neck it goes;

    gather the sweet fruit of happy Spring,
    before wrathful age has overlaid
    all your beauty’s pinnacles with snow.

    Icy wind will cause the rose to fade,
    and fleeting time will transform everything
    just to maintain its accustomed flow.

    Translated by Mary Rae

     
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