October 4th, 2012
|02:12 pm - Sube conmigo amor Americano|
For national poetry day, here is my own translation of part of The Heights of Macchu Picchu by Pablo Neruda. Oh Wilkamayu, oh you loom of sound.
Sube conmigo amor Americano
Rise up with me, American beloved
Oh, kiss with me these undiscovered rocks.
The silver torrent of the Urubamba
Drives out the pollen from its golden cup.
Everything is flying: the emptiness within the vines
The solid ground, the stony garlanding,
Above the silent canyon through the peaks.
Come, little one, between these wings
Emerging from the ground - crystal and freezing air -
Beating back, fighting the emeralds,
The savage waters at the base of snow.
Love me, love me, until the night forces
Sound from the Andean flint,
Until the rosy knees of dawn
Part to reveal the blind son of the snow.
Oh Wilkamayu, oh you loom of sound
When you break your perfect line
In white spume, like a wound in snow
When your plunging tempest sings
Punishing heaven, calling the sky to wake,
What language is this, wrenched from the Andean foam,
That gushes into my open ears?
|Date:||October 4th, 2012 09:19 pm (UTC)|| |
Wow, that takes me back! \o/
ahem yes this is not original