Poetry in Translation (CXXVIII): Vicente Aleixandre (1889 – 1984), Poet Spaniol – “El cuerpo y el alma”, ” Corp si suflet”, “The Body and the Soul”
Vicente Pío Marcelino Cirilo Aleixandre y Merlo (1889 – 1984)
EL CUERPO Y EL ALMA
Pero es más triste todavía, mucho más triste.
Triste como la rama que deja caer su fruto para nadie.
Más triste, más. Como ese vaho
que de la tierra exhala depués la pulpa muerta.
Como esa mano que del cuerpo tendido
se eleva y quiere solamente acariciar las luces,
la sonrisa doliente, la noche aterciopelada y muda.
Luz de la noche sobre el cuerpo tendido sin alma.
Alma fuera, alma fuera del cuerpo, planeando
tan delicadamente sobre la triste forma abandonada.
Alma de niebla dulce, suspendida
sobre su ayer amante, cuerpo inerme
que pálido se enfría con las nocturnas horas
y queda quito, solo, dulcemente vacío.
Alma de amor que vela y se separa
vacilando, y al fin se aleja tiernamente fría.
Corp şi Suflet
Vicente Aleixandre (1889 – 1984)
Dar e trist, mult prea trist.
Trist pentru fructul pierdut, desprins din creangă.
Trist, prea trist, pentru parfumul
fructului uscat, căzut pe pământ.
Ca braţul acestui trup încordat,
ridicat, doar ca să poată tânji spre lumină
surâs dureros, în noaptea catifelată şi mută.
Lumina nopţii învăluind corpul.
Suflet liberat de trup, suflet liber, plutind
atât de delicat deasupra fiinţei abandonate.
Suflet de ceaţă diafană, suspendat
peste corpul fostului iubit, trup nevinovat şi palid
trup răcindu-se în lumina dimineţii,
zăcând singur, liniştit şi gol.
Suflet de iubire ce veghează, despărţindu-se
cu greu, într-un târziu tandru şi rece.
(Rendered in Romanian by Constantin ROMAN, London,
© 2012, Copyright Constantin ROMAN)
The Body and the Soul
But it is sadder than that, much, much sadder.
Sad as a branch letting its fruit fall for no one.
Sadder, much sadder. Like the mist
the dead fruit breathes out from the ground.
Like that hand that rises from the corpse lying in state
and merely wants to touch the lamps,
grieving smile, the night speechless and velvet.
Luminous night above the corpse stretched out without its soul.
The soul outside, soul outside the body, swooping
with such delicacy over the shape sad and abandoned.
Soul of soft mist, held floating
above its former lover, the defenseless and pale
body, which grows colder as the night goes on,
it remains silent, alone, empty in a gentle way.
Soul of love that watches and hesitates
to free itself, but finally leaves, gentle and cold.
BIOGRAPHY:
Vicente Pío Marcelino Cirilo Aleixandre y Merlo (April 26, 1889 – December 14, 1984) was a Spanish poet who was born in Seville.[1] Aleixandre was a Nobel Prize laureate for Literature in 1977. He was part of the Generation of ’27. He died in Madrid in 1984.
Vicente Aleixandre was born in Sevilla (Spain) on April 26, 1898. He spent his childhood in Malaga and he has lived in Madrid since 1909. Studied law at the University of Madrid and at the Madrid School of Economics. Beginning in 1925 he has completely devoted himself to literature. His first book of poems, Ambit, appeared in 1928. Since that date he has written and published a score of books. In 1933, he received the National Literary Prize for his work Destruction or Love. He spent the Civil War in the Republican zone. He fell ill and remained in Madrid at the end of the conflict, silenced by the new authorities for four years. In 1944, he published The Shadow of Paradise, still maintaining his independence of the established political situation. In 1950, he became a member of the Spanish Academy. His books and anthologies have been published up to the present day. The Swedish Academy awarded him the Nobel Prize for Literature for the totality of his work in 1977.
Ray // Oct 10, 2012 at 12:03 pm
Sad but full of beauty verses; once again a great selection and work, Constant. Thanks a lot.
editor // Oct 12, 2012 at 11:58 pm
Ray,
Thank you for your encouragement: it is good to have some reaction from my readers, although I am not always sure that my choice of poems is sufficiently apealing. Have a good day. Multumesc.