Mary Oliver: Momentos (“Moments”)
Posted: March 22, 2016 Filed under: English, Mary Oliver, Spanish | Tags: Poemas para el Cambio de Estaciones, Poems for the change of seasons Comments Off on Mary Oliver: Momentos (“Moments”)
Mary Oliver (American poet, Pulitzer Prize winner, born 1935)
Moments
.
There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.
Like, telling someone you love them.
Or giving your money away, all of it.
.
Your heart is beating, isn’t it?
You’re not in chains, are you?
.
There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life
even, possibly, your own.
. . .
Mary Oliver (Ohio, EE.UU., nac. 1935)
Momentos
.
Hay momentos que piden a gritos cumplirse.
Como, decirle a alguien que lo amas.
O dejar tu dinero, todo.
.
Tu corazón late, ¿verdad?
Estás desencadenado, ¿no es cierto?
.
No hay nada más patético que la cautela
cuando ir de cabeza puede salvar una vida
incluso, posiblemente, la tuya.
. . .
Traducción del inglés: Christopher Cummins (Irlanda, 2016)
. . . . .
“Facendo rotta verso casa”: Oche selvatiche di Mary Oliver / “Wild Geese”
Posted: March 22, 2016 Filed under: English, Italian, Mary Oliver | Tags: Poems for the change of seasons Comments Off on “Facendo rotta verso casa”: Oche selvatiche di Mary Oliver / “Wild Geese”
Mary Oliver (born 1935)
Wild geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
. . .
“Wild Geese”: from the collection Dream Work (1986)
. . .
.
Mary Oliver
Oche selvatiche
Non devi essere buono.
Non devi camminare sulle ginocchia
per cento miglia nel deserto, pentendoti.
Devi solo lasciare che il tenero animale del tuo corpo
ami ciò che ama.
Raccontami della disperazione, la tua, ed io ti racconterò la mia.
Nel frattempo il mondo va avanti.
Nel frattempo il sole e i limpidi sassolini di pioggia
si stanno muovendo attraverso il paesaggio,
sulle praterie e gli alberi alti,
le montagne e i fiumi.
Nel frattempo le oche selvatiche, in alto nell’aria limpida e blu,
stanno di nuovo facendo rotta verso casa.
Chiunque tu sia, non importa quanto solo,
il mondo si offre alla tua immaginazione,
ti chiama come le oche selvatiche, forte e appassionatamente –
più e più volte annunciando il tuo posto
nella famiglia delle cose.
. . .
Traduzione di Federica Galetto
Federica Galetto (Torino). Poetessa, scrittrice, traduttrice, appassionata di lingua e letteratura inglese e americana.
. . . . .
.
Dos poemas para Yom Kipur / Two poems for Yom Kippur: Jane Kenyon, Mary Oliver + תשובה
Posted: September 25, 2012 Filed under: English, Jane Kenyon, Mary Oliver, Spanish Comments Off on Dos poemas para Yom Kipur / Two poems for Yom Kippur: Jane Kenyon, Mary Oliver + תשובהEste año, Yom Kipur – la conmemoración del Día de la Expiación y del Perdón – cae en el 25 y 26 de septiembre. Estos dos poemas, eligidos por la Rabina Rachel Barenblat, se tratan – elipticamente, oblicuamente – del sujeto de Teshuvá. Teshuvá (en hebreo תשובה) es la práctica de volver a las raíces de la fe. Incluye el esfuerzo del individuo hacia un sentido de arrepentirse de los pecados propios de una forma significativa y sincera…
*
This year Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement and Forgiveness – begins at sunset on September 25th and continues through the 26th. The two poems featured here – chosen by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat – are about Teshuvah, although indirectly, elliptically so. Teshuvah involves a “return” to the roots of the faith, and includes each individual’s effort to feel repentant, genuinely sorry for, the wrongs he or she has done to another. When there is deep, meaningful sincerity to this spiritual process it is often reciprocated through forgiveness by the one who was wronged…
.
Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)
“Sola por una semana”
.
Hice una lavada de ropa
y la colgué para secar.
Subí al pueblo después fui al centro
y me entretuve todo el día.
La manga de tu camisa más fina
ascendió solemnemente
cuando llegaba en el carro
nuestras ropas de dormir
se enlazaron y desenlazaron
en una pequeña ráfaga de viento.
Para mí se estuvo haciendo tarde; estaba
para ti, donde estabas – no.
La luna de otoño estaba llena
pero las nubes escasas hacían su luz
no exactamente fidedigna.
La cama en tu lado parecía
ancha y llana como Kansas;
tu almohada estaba rellena, fresca, alegórica…
*
Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)
“Alone for a week”
.
I washed a load of clothes
and hung them out to dry.
Then I went up to town
and busied myself all day.
The sleeve of your best shirt
rose ceremonious
when I drove in; our night-
clothes twined and untwined in
a little gust of wind.
For me it was getting late;
for you, where you were, not.
The harvest moon was full
but sparse clouds made its light
not quite reliable.
The bed on your side seemed
as wide and flat as Kansas;
your pillow plump, cool,
and allegorical…
_____
Mary Oliver (nace 1935)
“El Viaje”
.
Por fin un día supiste
lo que tenías que hacer, y empezaste,
aunque las voces alrededor de ti
siguieron gritando
su mal consejo – aunque toda la casa
comenzó a temblar
y sentiste el jalón familiar
a tus tobillos.
“¡Arregla mi vida!”
gritó cada voz.
Pero no te detuvistes.
Supiste lo que tenías que hacer
aunque los dedos rígidos del viento
curiosearon aún en los fundamentos
aunque era terrible su melancolía.
Ya estaba bastante tarde
y una noche furiosa,
y el camino lleno de ramas y piedras caídas.
Pero, poco a poco,
como dejaste atrás sus voces,
las estrellas comenzaron a quemar
por las capas de nubes,
y había una fresca voz
que reconociste lentamente,
que te acompañaba
mientras que cruzaste a grandes zancadas
más y más en lo más hondo del mundo,
estando decidido a
hacer la sola cosa que podías hacer –
estando empeñado a salvar
la única vida que podías salvar.
*
Mary Oliver (born 1935)
“The Journey”
.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save…
. . . . .
Traducción del inglés al español / Translation from English into Spanish:
Alexander Best, Lidia García Garay
Zócalo Poets 