Spanish Poems


About this blog
Poemas en Inglés es un blog que pretende acercar poemas de lengua inglesa al castellano
"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?"


"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 V. Espíritu sin nombre...-
domingo, 15 de abril de 2007
Rima V. Espíritu sin nombre...

Espíritu sin nombre,
indefinible esencia,
yo vivo con la vida
sin formas de la idea.

Yo nado en el vacío
del sol tiemblo en la hoguera
palpito entre las sombras
y floto con las nieblas.

Yo soy el fleco de oro
de la lejana estrella,
yo soy de la alta luna
la luz tibia y serena.

Yo soy la ardiente nube
que en el ocaso ondea;
yo soy del astro errante
la luminosa estela.

Yo soy nieve en las cumbre,
soy fuego en las arenas,
azul onda en los mares
y espuma en las riberas.

En el laúd soy nota,
perfume en la violeta,
fugas llama en las tumbas
y en las ruinas hiedra.

Yo atrueno en el torrente,
y silbo en la centella
y ciego en el relámpago
y rujo en la tormenta.

Yo río en los alcores
susurro en la alta hierba,
suspiro en la onda pura
y lloro en la hoja seca.

Yo ondulo con los átomos
del el humo que se eleva
y al cielo lento sube
en espiral inmensa.

Yo en los dorados hilos
que los insectos cuelgan
me mezclo entre los árboles
en la ardorosa siesta.

Yo corro tras las ninfas
que en la corriente fresca
del cristalino arrollo
desnudas juguetean.

Yo en bosque de corales,
que alfombran blancas perlas,
persigo en el océano
las náyades ligeras.

Yo, en las cavernas cóncavas,
do el sol nunca penetra,
mezclándome a los nomos
contemplo sus riquezas.

Yo busco de los siglos
las ya borradas huellas,
y sé de esos imperios
de que ni el nombre queda.

Yo sigo en raudo vértigo
los mundos que voltean,
y mi pupila abarca
la creación entera.

Yo sé de esas regiones
a do rumor no llega,
y donde los informes astros
de vida y soplo esperan.

Yo soy sobre el abismo
el puente que atraviesa;
yo soy la ignota escala
que el cielo une a la tierra.

Yo soy el invisible
anillo que sujeta
el mundo de la forma
al mundo de la idea.

Yo, en fin, soy el espíritu,
desconocida esencia,
perfume misterioso
de que es vaso el poeta.

Rhyme V. Spirit without name...

Spirit without name,
indefinable essence,
I live a life
with no form of idea.
I swim in the emptiness
quivering in the bonfire of the sun
I shiver among shadows
and float with the fog.

I am the fleck of gold
of a distant star.
I am the warm and serene
light of the high moon.

I am the burning cloud
that billows in the sunset;
I am the luminous
wake of a comet.

I am snow on the summits,
am fire in the dunes,
blue waves in the oceans
and foam on the shores.

In the lute I am note,
perfume in the violet,
fleeting passion in tombs
and in the ruins ivy.

I roar in the torrent
and hiss in the spark
and blind in the lightning
and pummel in the storm.

I laugh on the hills
whisper in the tall grass,
sigh in the clear ripple
and cry in the dry leaf.

I swirl with the atoms
of rising smoke
and ascend to the sky
in slow immense spirals.

In the golden threads
that insects hang,
I am suspended between trees
in the sweltering siesta.

I chase after nymphs
who in the fresh current
of crystalline creeks
frolic naked.

In a forest of coral,
carpeted with white pearls,
through the ocean I pursue
lithe naiads.

I, in hollow caverns
where the sun never penetrates,
join the gnomes
in contemplating their riches.

I seek the obliterated
traces of centuries past,
and know those empires
whose names have been lost.

I follow with hasty vertigo
the planets that spin,
and my eyes embrace
the whole of creation.

I know of remote regions
where rumors don't arrive,
and where formless nebulae
await the breath of life.

I am the bridge that crosses
over the abyss;
I am the unknown ladder
that connects the sky to the earth.

I am the invisible
chain-link that binds
the world of forms
to the world of ideas.

I am, in short, the spirit,
unrecognizable essence,
mysterious perfume
which fills the glass of a poet.

Translated by Howard A. Landman


posted by Bishop @ 10:05  
  • At 15 de julio de 2007, 11:43, Blogger Bishop said…


    A subtle essence indefinable
    Am I, a being without form or frame;
    Within no certain bounds assignable
    A vital spirit, yet without a name.

    I swim within a void immensurate,
    I tremble in the radii of the sun,
    Among the shades I love to palpitate,
    The clouds and I together float as one.

    I am the slender ray of golden light
    Emitted by the distant evening star;
    I am the radiance, serene and bright
    Which gentle moonbeams send us from afar.

    I am the gorgeous, ruby-tinted cloud
    which sinks at eventide, into the sea;
    I am the errant comets sweeping, proud,
    And lumionous appendage equally.

    I am the snow upon the mountain peak,
    I am the glow upon the desert sand;
    I am the blue wawes of the sea and eke,
    I am the foam upon the water's strand.

    Within each hymn of praise I am a note,
    The violet's fragrance I personify;
    The fleeting marsh-light in a tomb or moat,
    The trailing ivy on the ruins high.

    I thunder in the torrent's headlong course,
    I hiss in the electric spark of fire;
    I blind you in the lightning's awful force,
    I groan among the torture, stern and dire.

    I laugh in Nature's multi-peopled choir,
    I whisper in the waving blades of grass;
    Within the curling billows I suspire,
    And weep in shrivelled autumn-leaves, that pass.

    I vibrate in the atoms which comprise
    The wreath of smoke, which from the earth ascends,
    We see it gently toward the sky arise
    In spiral form, contorted and immense.

    I mingle in the flimsy golden threads
    Which insect artisans so well construct,
    When the siesta claims our wearied heads
    Among the trees, which to repose conduct.

    The flying nymphs I eagerly pursue
    While they, disrobed, are sporting in the cool,
    Refreshing current, hidden from all view,
    Within the shelter of the crystal pool.

    I follow up, upon the ocean's bed
    Light footed naiads, merry, winsome girls,
    Where coral woods are richly carpeted
    With an array of dazzling, snow-white pearls.

    I mingle with the subterranean gnomes
    In hollow caverns, far from solar ray,
    Behold the wondrous riches of their homes,
    Where gems create an artificial day.

    I seek the trace of footprints, now erased
    From former ages, which have ceased to be;
    I know of empires, which have been displaced,
    Of whom no name remains, nor history.

    Before me are in dizzy whirls unrolled,
    Revolving worlds in silent majesty;
    Such is my vision, that I may behold
    The whole creation with observant eye.

    I know of regions, nebulous, remote,
    Where even sound has failed to penetrate;
    Where stars in emryotic chaos float
    And eagerly the breath of life await.

    I am the wondrous bridge which dares to cross
    The bottomless abyss by Titans riven;
    I am the unknown ladder o'er the foss
    Which re-unites the realms of earth and heaven.

    I am the ring of potency enorm,
    Unseen, yet subjugating, as it ought,
    The grosser world of mere external form
    Unto the elevated world of thought.

    I am, at last that latent quality,
    That unknown essence, spiritual haze,
    That perfume, delicate in mystery,
    Of which the poet is the fitting vase.

    Translated by Jules Renard

  • At 15 de julio de 2007, 11:45, Blogger Bishop said…


    Spirit innominate,
    Essence undefined,
    I live the unshapen
    Life of the mind.

    In vast space I swim
    In the sun's heat I quiver,
    I float with the clouds,
    Among shadows I shiver.

    I am the golden fringe
    Girding the distant star;
    I am the high moon's light,
    Tranquil and pale.

    I am the glowing cloud
    Floating in western sky;
    I am the meteor's
    Luminous trail.

    Snow on the mountain peaks,
    Fire in the desert sands,
    Blue wave at sea am I,
    Froth on the strands.

    Ivy mid ruins am I,
    In the tombs fleeting flame,
    Fragrance in violet;
    In the lute, tone.

    I roar in the torrent,
    In windstorm I trumpet,
    Strike blind in the lightning-flash;
    In torments, groan.

    I laugh in the upland hills,
    Whisper amid tall grass,
    Murmur in limpid streams;
    In the dry leaf, weep.

    I float with the atoms
    Of vapor uprising,
    That mount slowly skyward
    In vast spiral sweep.

    In the thin golden webs
    Spun by the insects,
    Under the trees I swing
    At restless ease.

    I, amid coral growths
    Under the waves pursue
    Light naiads;

    Follow the naked nymphs
    In the fresh, crystalline
    Current of running brook
    Sporting their leisure.

    I, in the hollow caves
    Whither no sunbeam comes,
    Mingling among the gnomes
    Gaze on their treasure.

    I seek of ages gone
    Traces obliterate;
    Empires whose very names
    Lost are, I know.

    All of creation
    My vision embraces;
    I follow stars, spinning
    In mad vertigo.

    I know those regions
    Where never a sound doth come,
    Where worlds in embryo
    Await life's leaven.

    I am the crossing-bridge
    Over the deep abyss;
    I am the unknown stair
    'Twixt earth and heaven.

    I am the invisible
    Ring that doth bind
    To the ethereal world
    The world we discern.

    I am that spirit,
    Ineffable essence,
    Unknown attar, with
    The poet for urn.

    Translated by Young Allison

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