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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
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer -Rima VI. Como la brisa que la sangre orea...-
domingo, 15 de abril de 2007
Rima VI. Como la brisa que la sangre orea...

Como la brisa que la sangre orea
sobre el oscuro campo de batalla,
cargada de perfumes y armonías
en el silencio de la noche vaga;

símbolo del dolor y la ternura,
del bardo inglés en el horrible drama,
la dulce Ofelia, la razón perdida,
cogiendo flores y cantando pasa.


Rhyme VI. Like the breeze that the blood borders...

Like the breeze that the blood borders
over the darkened field of battle,
charged with perfumes and harmonies
in the silence of the wandering night,

symbol of pain and tenderness,
from the english Bard in the horrible drama,
the sweet Ophelia, lost to reason,
gathering flowers and passes, singing.

Etiquetas:

posted by Bishop @ 10:06  
4 Comments:
  • At 15 de julio de 2007, 11:58, Blogger Bishop said…

    RHYME VI. LIKE A FRESH BREEZE...

    Like a fresh breeze that dispels
    a dark battlefield's bloody smells,
    laden with harmonies and incense
    in the vague night's silence;

    symbol of tenderness and pain,
    through the English bard's horrible play,
    moves sweet Ophelia, reason devoured
    singing songs and picking flowers.

    translated by Howard A. Landman

     
  • At 15 de julio de 2007, 12:00, Blogger Bishop said…

    RHYME VI. LIKE THE BREEZE THAT DRIES THE BLOOD...

    Like the breeze that dries the blood
    Upon the darkening battle-field,
    Laden with perfumes and sweet sounds,
    In the vague silence of the night;

    Symbol of tenderness and grief,
    The English bard in awful verse
    The sweet Ophelia paints, who, mad,
    Passes with flowers and with song.

    Translated by Owen Innsly

     
  • At 15 de julio de 2007, 12:02, Blogger Bishop said…

    RHYME VI. AS WANDERS O'ER A DARKENED FIELD...

    As wanders o'er a darkened field of blood,
    Refreshing to the sense, a gentle breeze
    In night and silence, with a grateful flood
    Of perfumes fraught and pleasing harmonies,

    So we may see the sweet Ophelia pass
    Within the British poet's awful play,
    Symbolical of grief and tenderness,
    With songs and strewing flowers on her way.

    Translated by Jules Renard

     
  • At 15 de julio de 2007, 12:04, Blogger Bishop said…

    RHYME VI. LIKE TO THE BREEZE THAT TOUCHES BLOOD...

    Like to the breeze that touches blood
    Upon the somber field of fray
    And through the silences of night
    Both harmonies and fragrance sows;

    Symbol of pain and tenderness -
    In the English bard's direful play
    Sweet Ophelia, bereft of reason,
    Singing and strewing blossoms goes.

    Translated by Young Allison

     
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