Spanish Poems

RHYME XXVI. IN SPITE OF SELFISH INTEREST...

In spite of selfish interest
Let it be frankly here confessed
That I with thee
Must quite agree
That odes are only good, when seen
Endorsed on bank-notes crisp and green. -
Some dolts will not be wantng, who
Will cross themselves with much ado
And vent their rank acerbity
Upon our nineteenth century.
Declaring modern women all
Prosaic and material. -
Such sentiments but serve to make
Four frozen poets run and quake,
When they essay in winter's ire
To wrap themselves within their lyre.
These are the dogs who bay their tune
To spite the poor, defenceless moon.
For you know well
And I can tell,
That there are very few of us
Who boast of real genius
While any booby may with gold
A world of poesy unfold.

Translated by Jules Renard

RHYME XXVI. IT IS AGAINST MY INTEREST...

It is against my interest to confess it,
But I, belov'd, with thee
Agree that an ode hath little worth, unless it
Is good for a bank-cheque - and endorsed to me.
There will not lack some nincompoop who, hearing,
Will cross himmself and say:

"Woman, the nineteenth century's endng nearing,
Material and prosaic ..." What foolish bray!
Voices that make four poets run, who tight
Wrap themselves in lyrics on a winter's day!
Baying of hounds in the moon's light!
In this life thou well knowest, as know I,
With genius 'tis most counted who doth write,
With gold, 'tis whoso maketh, poetry.

Translated by Young Allison