Nedruda, Prevert and Rumi. A very intense combo
.
Te recuerdo como eras en el último otoño.
Eras la boina gris y el corazón en calma.
En tus ojos peleaban las llamas del crepúsculo
Y las hojas caían en el agua de tu alma.
Apegada a mis brazos como una enredadera.
las hojas recogían tu voz lenta y en calma.
Hoguera de estupor en que mi sed ardía.
Dulce jacinto azul torcido sobre mi alma.
Siento viajar tus ojos y es distante el otoño:
boina gris, voz de pájaro y corazón de casa
hacia donde emigraban mis profundos anhelos
y caían mis besos alegres como brasas.
Cielo desde un navío. Campo desde los cerros.
Tu recuerdo es de luz, de humo, de estanque en calma!
Más allá de tus ojos ardían los crepúsculos.
Hojas secas de otoño giraban en tu alma. I remember you as you were last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell on the water of your soul.
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.
I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
grey beret, voice of bird, heart like a house,
towards which my deep longings migrated
and my kisses fell, happy as embers.
Sky from a ship, Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.
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Le Ruisseau
Beaucoup d'eau a passé sous le pont
et aussi énormément de sang
Mais aux pieds de l'amour
coule un grand ruisseau blanc
Et dans les jardins de la lune
où tous les jours c'est ta fête
ce ruisseau chante en dormant
Et cette lune c'est ma tête
où tourne un grand soleil bleu
Et ce soleil c'est tes yeux
The Stream
Much water has passed beneath the bridge
And also much blood
But upon the feet of love
Flows a great white stream
And in the gardens of the moon
Where all the the days are your festivals
This stream sings in sleep
And this moon is my head
Where turns a great blue sun
And this sun is your eyes.
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Verse XLI – The Gardener
Rabindranath TagoreI long to speak the deepest words I have to say to you
but I dare not – for fear you should laugh
That is why I laugh at myself and shatter my secret in jest
I make light of my pain, afraid you should do so.
I long to tell you the truest words I have to say to you
but I dare not – being afraid that you should not believe them
That is why I disguise them in untruth, saying the contrary of what I mean
I make my pain appear absurd, afraid that you should do so.
I long to use the most precious words I have for you
but I dare not – fearing I should not be paid with like value
That is why I give you hard names and boast of my callous strength
I hurt you, for fear you should never know any pain.
I long to sit silent by you,
but I dare not – lest my heart come out at my lips
That is why I prattle and chatter lightly and hide my heart behind words
I rudely handle my pain, for fear you should do so.
I long to go away from your side
but I dare not – for fear my cowardice should become known to you
That is why I hold my head high and carelessly come into your presence
Constant thrusts from your eyes keep my pain fresh for ever.
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