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Entrare en el ramaje
mientras la neblina
Tiñera purificando el vaho Dionisiaco.
Entrare en lo profundo
y me bañare con gotas de rocío.
¿Cómo me decías tú que me llamaba?
olvide el nombre del bastardo aquel
se lo llevo un Maremoto del mar muerto
aquel no beberá sonrisas como sangre viscosa
no opacara rostros, ni destruirá lo creado.
Lamentablemente ya no es neblina
son rostros;
1)La aparición de estos rostros en la multitud
pétalos en una mojada rama negra.
alguien le toca perder en todo esto ya que
2)El arte de perder no cuesta tanto.
Invítame a bañarme en niebla cristalina
mientras te devuelvo la sangre al rostro
hasta lograr besarte una sonrisa.
1) Elizabeth Bishop ; One art
2) Ezra Pound ; In a station of the metro.
3 comentarios:
One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
-- Elizabeth Bishop
IN A STATION OF THE METRO
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
-Ezra Pound
The poem was first published in 1913
ta bueno... :)
ojo con las faltas de ortografía... acentos por ejemplo.
nos vemos compadree
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