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Poemas en Inglés es un blog que pretende acercar poemas de lengua inglesa al castellano
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Augusto Monterroso

-La palabra mágica-

"Es imposible traducir la poesía. ¿Acaso se puede traducir la música?"

Voltaire

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James Nolan

"La traducción destroza el espí­ritu del idioma"

Federico García Lorca
Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz -Hombres necios que acusáis...-
viernes, 20 de octubre de 2006
Hombres necios que acusáis...

Hombres necios que acusáis
a la mujer sin razón,
sin ver que sois la ocasión
de lo mismo que culpáis:

si con ansia sin igual
solicitáis su desdén,
¿por qué quereis que obren bien
si las incitáis al mal?

Combatís su resistencia
y luego, con gravedad,
decís que fue liviandad
lo que hizo la diligencia.

Parecer quiere el denuedo
de vuestro parecer loco,
al niño que pone el coco
y luego le tiene miedo.

Queréis, con presunción necia,
hallar a la que buscáis,
para pretendida, Thais,
y en la posesión, Lucrecia

¿Qué humor puede ser más raro
que el que, falto de consejo,
el mismo empaña el espejo
y siente que no esté claro?

Con el favor y el desdén
tenéis condición igual,
quejándoos, si os tratan mal,
burlándoos, si os quieren bien.

Opinión, ninguna gana:
pues la que más se recata,
si no os admite, es ingrata,
y si os admite, es liviana

Siempre tan necios andáis
que, con desigual nivel,
a una culpáis por crüel
y a otra por fácil culpáis.

¿Pues cómo ha de estar templada
la que vuestro amor pretende,
si la que es ingrata, ofende,
y la que es fácil, enfada?

Mas, entre el enfado y pena
que vuestro gusto refiere,
bien haya la que no os quiere
y quejaos en hora buena.

Dan vuestras amantes penas
a sus libertades alas,
y después de hacerlas malas
las queréis hallar muy buenas.

¿Cuál mayor culpa ha tenido
en una pasión errada:
la que cae de rogada
o el que ruega de caído?

¿O cuál es más de culpar,
aunque cualquiera mal haga:
la que peca por la paga
o el que paga por pecar?

Pues ¿para quée os espantáis
de la culpa que tenéis?
Queredlas cual las hacéis
o hacedlas cual las buscáis.

Dejad de solicitar,
y después, con más razón,
acusaréis la afición
de la que os fuere a rogar.

Bien con muchas armas fundo
que lidia vuestra arrogancia,
pues en promesa e instancia
juntáis diablo, carne y mundo.


You foolish men, who accuse...

You foolish men, who accuse
Women without good reason,
You are the cause of what you blame,
Yours the guilt you deny:

If you seek the love of women to win
With ardor beyond compare
Why require them to be good,
When tis you who urge their sin?

You break down their resistance,
Then declare quite seriously,
That their lightness has achieved
What you won by your persistence.

You seek with stupid presumption,
To find her whom you pursue,
To be Thais when you woo her,
And Lucretia in your possession.

No woman can you really win;
Since even the most discreet,
Is ungrateful if she keeps you out,
And loose if she lets you in.

So where is the woman born,
Who would gain your love,
If an ungrateful woman displeases,
And a complaisant one you scorn.

Your amorous labors give
Wings to their indiscretions,
When you have made women wicked
You wish them virtuously to live.

In a passion that is guilty
Who bears the greater blame:
She who fails on being entreated,
Or he who fails to make entreaty?

Or when each is guilty of sin
Which is the most to blame:
She who sins for payment,
Or he who pays for the sin?

Why are you so surprised
At the fault that is your own?
Either prize women as you make them,
Or make them to be prized.

To them no longer urge your suit,
And then with much more reason,
Can you blame their affection
When they are in pursuit.

To assert this I have every right
Your pride has many weapons,
Your persistence and your promises
Devil, world, and flesh unite

Etiquetas:

posted by Bishop @ 15:00  
3 Comments:
  • At 20 de julio de 2007, 9:35, Blogger Bishop said…

    SILLY, YOU MEN-SO VERY ADEPT...

    Silly, you men-so very adept
    at wrongly faulting womankind,
    not seeing you're alone to blame
    for faults you plant in woman's mind.

    After you've won by urgent plea
    the right to tarnish her good name,
    you still expect her to behave—
    you, that coaxed her into shame.

    You batter her resistance down
    and then, all righteousness, proclaim
    that feminine frivolity,
    not your persistence, is to blame.

    When it comes to bravely posturing,
    your witlessness must take the prize:
    you're the child that makes a bogeyman,
    and then recoils in fear and cries.

    Presumptuous beyond belief,
    you'd have the woman you pursue
    be Thais when you're courting her,
    Lucretia once she falls to you.

    For plain default of common sense,
    could any action be so queer
    as oneself to cloud the mirror,
    then complain that it's not clear?

    Whether you're favored or disdained,
    nothing can leave you satisfied.
    You whimper if you're turned away,
    you sneer if you've been gratified.

    With you, no woman can hope to score;
    whichever way, she's bound to lose;
    spurning you, she's ungrateful—
    succumbing, you call her lewd.

    Your folly is always the same:
    you apply a single rule
    to the one you accuse of looseness
    and the one you brand as cruel.

    What happy mean could there be
    for the woman who catches your eye,
    if, unresponsive, she offends,
    yet whose complaisance you decry?

    Still, whether it's torment or anger—
    and both ways you've yourselves to blame—
    God bless the woman who won't have you,
    no matter how loud you complain.

    It's your persistent entreaties
    that change her from timid to bold.
    Having made her thereby naughty,
    you would have her good as gold.

    So where does the greater guilt lie
    for a passion that should not be:
    with the man who pleads out of baseness
    or the woman debased by his plea?

    Or which is more to be blamed—
    though both will have cause for chagrin:
    the woman who sins for money
    or the man who pays money to sin?

    So why are you men all so stunned
    at the thought you're all guilty alike?
    Either like them for what you've made them
    or make of them what you can like.

    If you'd give up pursuing them,
    you'd discover, without a doubt,
    you've a stronger case to make
    against those who seek you out.

    I well know what powerful arms
    you wield in pressing for evil:
    your arrogance is allied
    with the world, the flesh, and the devil!

    Translated by Alan S. Trueblood

     
  • At 20 de julio de 2007, 9:40, Blogger Bishop said…

    MALES PERVERSE, SCHOOLED TO CONDEMN...

    Males perverse, schooled to condemn
    Women by your witless laws,
    Though forsooth you are prime cause
    Of that which you blame in them:

    If with unexampled care
    You solicit their disdain,
    Will your fair words ease their pain,
    When you ruthless set the snare?

    Their resistance you impugn,
    Then maintain with gravity
    That it was mere levity
    Made you dare to importune.

    What more elevating sight
    Than of man with logic crass,
    Who with hot breath fogs the glass,
    Then laments it is not bright!

    Scorn and favor, favor, scorn,
    What you will, result the same,
    Treat you ill, and earn your blame,
    Love you well, be left forlorn.

    Scant regard will she possess
    Who with caution wends her way,—
    Is held thankless for her “nay,”
    And as wanton for her “yes.”

    What must be the rare caprice
    Of the quarry you engage:
    If she flees, she wakes your rage,
    If she yields, her charms surcease.

    Who shall bear the heavier blame,
    When remorse the twain enthralls,
    She, who for the asking, falls,
    He who, asking, brings to shame?

    Whose the guilt, where to begin,
    Though both yield to passion's sway,
    She who weakly sins for pay,
    He who, strong, yet pays for Sin?

    Then why stare ye, if we prove
    That the guilt lies at your gate?
    Either love those you create,
    Or create those you can love.

    To solicitation truce,—
    Then, sire, with some show of right
    You may mock the hapless plight
    Or the creatures of your use!

    Translated by Peter H. Goldsmith

     
  • At 21 de julio de 2007, 13:50, Blogger Bishop said…

    YOU FOOLISH MEN WHO LAY...

    You foolish men who lay
    the guilt on women,
    not seeing you're the cause
    of the very thing you blame;

    if you invite their disdain
    with measureless desire
    why wish they well behave
    if you incite to ill.

    You fight their stubbornness,
    then, weightily,
    you say it was their lightness
    when it was your guile.

    In all your crazy shows
    you act just like a child
    who plays the bogeyman
    of which he's then afraid.

    With foolish arrogance
    you hope to find a Thais
    in her you court, but a Lucretia
    when you've possessed her.

    What kind of mind is odder
    than his who mists
    a mirror and then complains
    that it's not clear.

    Their favour and disdain
    you hold in equal state,
    if they mistreat, you complain,
    you mock if they treat you well.

    No woman wins esteem of you:
    the most modest is ungrateful
    if she refuses to admit you;
    yet if she does, she's loose.

    You always are so foolish
    your censure is unfair;
    one you blame for cruelty
    the other for being easy.

    What must be her temper
    who offends when she's
    ungrateful and wearies
    when compliant?

    But with the anger and the grief
    that your pleasure tells
    good luck to her who doesn't love you
    and you go on and complain.

    Your lover's moans give wings
    to women's liberty:
    and having made them bad,
    you want to find them good.

    Who has embraced
    the greater blame in passion?
    She who, solicited, falls,
    or he who, fallen, pleads?

    Who is more to blame,
    though either should do wrong?
    She who sins for pay
    or he who pays to sin?

    Why be outraged at the guilt
    that is of your own doing?
    Have them as you make them
    or make them what you will.

    Leave off your wooing
    and then, with greater cause,
    you can blame the passion
    of her who comes to court?

    Patent is your arrogance
    that fights with many weapons
    since in promise and insistence
    you join world, flesh and devil.

    Translated by Michael Smith

     
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