| 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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| Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer -Rima IX. Besa el aura que gime blandamente...- |
| domingo, 15 de abril de 2007 |
Rima IX. Besa el aura que gime blandamente...
Besa el aura que gime blandamente
las leves ondas que jugando riza;
el sol besa a la nube de occidente
y de púrpura y oro la matiza;
la llama en derredor del tronco ardiente
por besar a otra llama se desliza
y hasta el sauce, inclinándose a su peso,
al río que le besa, vuelve un beso.
Rhyme IX. The gentle breeze with a whispered cry...
The gentle breeze with a whispered cry
Kisses the water it ripples in fun;
The radiant clouds in the western sky
Are purple and gold from the kiss of the sun;
a flame slips round a tree trunk nigh
To kiss with ardour another one;
And the willow, trailing low its leaves,
Returns to the river the kiss it receives.
Translated by Alice Jane McVanEtiquetas: Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer |
posted by Bishop @ 10:09  |
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| 4 Comments: |
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Rima IX. THE WHINING AIR KISSES...
The whining air kisses
and playfully curls the nimble waves;
The sun kisses the western cloud,
lending it purple and golden hues,
The flame, around the burning trunk
to kiss another flame it slips,
And even the willow tree, bowing under his own weight,
to the river that kisses him returns the kiss.
Translated by Guia K. Monti
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RHYME IX. THE BREEZE THAT SOFTLY MOANS KISSES...
The breeze that softly moans kisses
the slender waves and they ripple playfully;
the sun kisses a cloud in the west
and purple and gold tint it;
the flame encircling a blazing trunk
slithers to kiss another flame,
and even the willow bends by its own weight
to the river that kisses it, and kisses back.
Translated by Howard A. Landman
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RHYME IX. THE SOFTLY-MOANING BREEZES...
The softly-moaning breezes kiss the wavelets, while at play,
As they curl in undulations with a restless revelry;
The sun bestows a kiss upon the cloud-banks in the West,
While gold and purple brilliancy their neutral tints invest;
The flame around a burning log is ardent in its aim
To glide with motion serpentine to kiss another flame;
The willow, even, bends its weight down to the longing stream
And gives its contribution to the universal theme.
Translated by Jules Renard
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RHYME IX. KISSED BY THE ZEPHYR...
Kissed by the zephyr that so softly sighs,
The light waves into ripples are caressed;
The sun kisses the cloud high in the skies
And tints it gold and purple in the west;
The flame that round the glowing tree-trunk plies
To kiss another flame itself doth twist;
Even the willow, by its own weight bowed o'er,
Doth with a kiss, to the streamlet kissing it, restore.
Translated by Young Allison
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Rima IX. THE WHINING AIR KISSES...
The whining air kisses
and playfully curls the nimble waves;
The sun kisses the western cloud,
lending it purple and golden hues,
The flame, around the burning trunk
to kiss another flame it slips,
And even the willow tree, bowing under his own weight,
to the river that kisses him returns the kiss.
Translated by Guia K. Monti