Neruda And Vallejo: Selected Poems Part 43

and James Wright

ESPERGESIA.

Yo nac un da que Dios estuvo enfermo.

Todos saben que vivo, que soy malo; y no saben del diciembre de ese enero.

Pues yo nac un da que Dios estuvo enfermo.

Hay un vaco en mi aire metafsco que nadie ha de palpar: el claustro de un silencio que habl a flor de fuego.

Yo nac un da que Dios estuvo enfermo.

Hermano, escucha, escucha Bueno. Y que no me vaya sin llevar diciembres, sin dejar eneros.

Pues yo nac un da que Dios estuvo enfermo.

Todos saben que vivo, que mastico Y no saben por que en mi verso chirrian, oscuro sinsabor de feretro, luyidos vientos desenroscados de la Esfinge preguntona del Desierto.

Todos saben Y no saben que la Luz es tsica, y la Sombra gorda Y no saben que el Misterio sintetiza que el es la joroba musical y triste que a distancia denuncia el paso meridiano de las lindes a las Lindes Yo nac un da que Dios estuvo enfermo, grave.

HAVE YOU ANYTHING TO SAY IN YOUR DEFENSE?.

Well, on the day I was born, G.o.d was sick.

They all know that I'm alive, that I'm vicious ; and they don't know the December that follows from that January.

Well, on the day I was born, G.o.d was sick.

There is an empty place in my metaphysical shape that no one can reach: a cloister of silence that spoke with the fire of its voice m.u.f.fled.

On the day I was born, G.o.d was sick.

Brother, listen to me, Listen Oh, all right. Don't worry, I won't leave without taking my Decembers along, without leaving my Januaries behind.

Well, on the day I was born, G.o.d was sick.

They all know that I'm alive, that I chew my food and they don't know why harsh winds whistle in my poems, the narrow uneasiness of a coffin, winds untangled from the Sphinx who holds the desert for routine questioning.

Yes, they all know Well, they don't know that the light gets skinny and the darkness gets bloated and they don't know that the Mystery joins things together that he is the hunchback musical and sad who stands a little way off and foretells the dazzling progression from the limits to the Limits.

On the day I was born, G.o.d was sick, gravely.

Translated by James Wright from Trilce

1922.

III.

Las personas mayores a que hora volvern?

Da la seis el ciego Santiago, y ya est muy oscuro.

Madre dijo que no demorara.

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel, cuidado con ir por ah, por donde acaban de pasar gangueando sus memorias dobladoras penas, hacia el silencioso corral, y por donde las gallinas que se estn aconstando todava, se han espantado tanto.

Mejor estemos aqu no ms.

Madre dijo que no demorara.

Ya no tengamos pena. Vamos viendo los barcos el mo es ms bonito de todos!

con los cuales jugamos todo el santo da, sin pelearnos, como debe ser: han quedado en el pozo de agua, listos, fletados de dulces para manana.

Aguardemos as, obedientes y sin ms remedio, la vuelta, el desagravio de los mayores siempre delanteros dejndonos en casa a los pequenos, como si tambien nosotros no pudiesemos partir.

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel?

Llamo, busco al tanteo en la oscuridad.

No me vayan a haber dejado solo, y el nico recluso sea yo.

III.

What time are the big people going to come back?

Blind Santiago is striking six and already it's very dark.

Mother said that she wouldn't be delayed.

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel be careful of going over there, where doubled-up griefs whimpering their memories have just gone toward the quiet poultry-yard, where the hens are still getting settled, who have been startled so much.

We'd better just stay here.

Mother said that she wouldn't be delayed.

And we shouldn't be sad. Let's go see the boats-mine is prettier than anybody's!- we were playing with them the whole blessed day, without fighting among ourselves, as it should be: they stayed behind in the puddle, all ready, loaded with pleasant things for tomorrow.

Let's wait like this, obedient and helpless, for the homecoming, the apologies of the big people, who are always the first to abandon the rest of us in the house- as if we couldn't get away too!

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel?

I am calling, I am feeling around for you in the darkness.

Don't leave me behind by myself, to be locked in all alone.

Translated by James Wright

XV.

En el rincn aquel, donde dormimos juntos tantas noches, ahora me he sentado a caminar. La cuja de los novios difuntos fue sacada, o talvez que habr pasado.

Has venido temprano a otros asuntos y ya no ests. Es el rincn donde a tu lado, le una noche, entre tus tiernos puntos, un cuento de Daudet. Es el rincn amado. No lo equivoques.

Me he puesto a recordar los das de verano idos, tu entrar y salir, poca y harta y plida por los cuartos.

En esta noche pluviosa, ya lejos de ambos dos, salto de p.r.o.nto Son dos puertas abriendose cerrndose, dos puertas que al viento van y vienen sombra a sombra.

XV.

In that corner, where we slept together so many nights, I've sat down now to take a walk. The bedstead of the dead lovers has been taken away, or what could have happened.

You came early for other things, but you're gone now. This is the corner where I read one night, by your side, between your tender b.r.e.a.s.t.s, a story by Daudet. It is the corner we loved. Don't confuse it with any other.

I've started to think about those days of summer gone, with you entering and leaving, little and fed up, pale through the rooms.

On this rainy night, already far from both of us, all at once I jump There are two doors, swinging open, shut, two doors in the wind, back, and forth, shadow to shadow.

Translated by James Wright

XXIV.

Al borde de un sepulcro florecido trascurren dos marias llorando, llorando a mares.

El nand desplumado del recuerdo alarga su postrera pluma, y con ella la mano negativa de Pedro graba en un domingo de ramos resonancias de exequias y de piedras.

Del borde de un sepulcro removido se alejan dos marias cantando.

Lunes.

XXIV.