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Blue Orange Green Pink Purple

Random thoughts from an unconventional Spaniard in the States

.

Walking around

Here goes a truly powerful poem by Pablo Neruda.

I find it very remarkable to observe how, even someone like him, who is usually filled with passion for life and love (remember his “Ode to life”) does also fall into despair at times; he also feels tired, confused, discouraged. I guess it happens to us all sooner or later. The poet moves adrift in a realm of quiet desperation where his verses emerge elegantly dressed in stunning, dark beauty. This way, the catharsis feels not only convenient, but actually highly appreciated. A real masterpiece.

If you can understand Spanish, you can listen to a very good reading of the poem by Ismael Serrano.

Enjoy.

* * * * *

Sucede que me canso de ser hombre.
It so happens that I get tired of being a man.
Sucede que entro en las sastrerias y en los cines

It happens I go into tailor shops and movies

marchito, impenetrable, como un cisne de fieltro

shriveled up, impervious, like a felt-stuffed swan

navegando en un agua de origen y ceniza.

steering through waters of origin and ash.

El olor de las peluquerias me hace llorar a gritos.
The smell of barbershops makes me break out sobbing.
Solo quiero un descanso de piedras de lana,
All I want is the quiet of stones or wool,
solo quiero no ver establecimientos ni jardines,
all I want is to see no stores or gardens,
ni mercaderias, ni anteojos, ni ascensores.
or merchandise or eyeglasses or elevators.

Sucede que me canso de mis pies y mis uñas
It happens I'm sick of my feet and fingernails
y mi pelo y mi sombra.
and my hair and my shadow.
Sucede que me canso de ser hombre.
It so happens that I get tired of being a man.

Sin embargo seria delicioso
Still it would be a treat
asustar a un notario con lirio cortado
to panic a notary with a cut lily
o dar muerte a una monja con golpe de oreja.
or do in a nun with one smack of an ear.
Seria bello ir por las calles con un cuchillo verde
It would be sweet to run through the streets with a green knife
y dando gritos hasta morir de frio.
screaming till I died of cold.

No quiero seguir siendo raiz en las tinieblas,
I just can't go on as a root in the dark,
vacilante, extendido, tiritando de sueño,
swaying, stretching, shivering with sleep,
hacia abajo, en las tripas mojadas de la tierra,
downward in the sodden guts of the earth,
absorbido y pensando, comiendo cada dia.
musing and steeping, every day eating.

No quiero para mi tantas desgracias,
I don't want so much misery for me.
No quiero continuar de raiz y de tumba,
I can't go on being root and tomb,
de subterraneo solo, de bodega con muertos,
lonely cellar, warehouse of frozen dead
aterido, muriendome de pena.
stiff, croaking from grief.

Por eso el dia lunes arde como el petroleo
That's why Monday flares up like petrol
cuando me ve llegar con mi cara de carcel,
when it sees me coming with my jailhouse mug,
y aulla en su transcurso como una rueda herida,
and howls like a wounded wheel as it rides by,
y da pasos de sangre caliente hacia la noche.
making hot bloody tracks toward night.

Y me empuja a ciertos rincones, a ciertas casas humedas,
And shoves me to certain corners, certain dank houses,
a hospitales donde los huesos salen por la ventana,
hospitals with bones sailing out the window,
a ciertas zapaterias con olor vinagre,
to certain shoe stores reeking of vinegar,
a calles espantosas como grietas.
streets as frightful as gullies.

Hay pajaros de color azufre y horribles intestinos
There are sulfur-tinged birds and hideous intestines
colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio,
hanging from the doors of houses I hate,
hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera,
there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot,
hay espejos
there are mirrors
que debieran haber llorado de verguenza y espanto,
that must have wept for shame and horror,
hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos.
umbrellas everywhere, poisons, and navels.

Yo paseo con calma, con ojos, con zapatos,
I'm walking around with calm, eyes, shoes,

con furia, con olvido,

rage and forgetfulness,

paso, cruzando oficinas y tiendas de ortopedia,

I walk along, skirting offices and orthopedic shops,

y patios donde hay ropas colgadas de un alambre:

and backyards with clothing hung from a wire:

calzoncillos, toallas y camisas que lloran

underpants, towels, and shirts that weep

lentas lagrimas sucias.

slow dirty tears.

Read More 1 Comment | Posted by Nanauat | edit post

1 Comment

  1. That girl on 2:43 PM

    Estamos leyendo este poema ahora en clase. Me encanta mucho...

     


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