martes, 30 de abril de 2013

Death, be not proud, by John Donne


Saint Jérome writing, by Caravaggio



Ambas bellezas hablan de inmortalidad; el poema y la piedra.
El día anochece y el manzano de casa está a punto de florecer.


Death, be not proud

John Donne





Death , be not proud, though some have called thee 

 and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.



________________________

Muerte no te enorgullezcas


Muerte, no te enorgullezcas, aunque algunos te hayan llamado

poderosa y terrible, no lo eres;
porque aquellos a quienes crees poder derribar
no mueren, pobre Muerte; y tampoco puedes matarme a mí.

El reposo y el sueño, que podrían ser casi tu imagen,
brindan placer, y mayor placer debe provenir de ti,
pues nuestros mejores hombres se van pronto contigo,
¡descanso de sus huesos y liberación de sus almas!

Eres esclava del destino, del azar, de los reyes y de los desesperados,
moras con el veneno, la guerra y la enfermedad;
la amapola o los hechizos pueden adormecernos tan bien
como tu guadaña y mejor aún. ¿Por qué te muestras tan engreída, entonces?

Después de un breve sueño, despertaremos eternamente
y no moriremos, ¡Muerte, habrás sucumbido!

miércoles, 24 de abril de 2013

The Witch. by William Butler Yeats. From Ayala to amamaBego





The Witch

Toil and grow rich,


What's that but to lie
With a foul witch


And after, drained dry,


To be brought


To the chamber where


Lies one long sought


With despair?



William Butler Yeats


The Look, by Carol ann Duffy, from Kai to AmamaBego








The Look





The heron's the look of the river.

The moon's the look of the night.

The sky's the look of forever.

Snow is the look of white. 

The bees are the look of the honey.

The wasp is the look of pain.

The clown is the look of funny.

Puddles are the look of rain. 

The whale is the look of the ocean.

The grave is the look of the dead.

The wheel is the look of motion.

Blood is the look of red. 

The rose is the look of the garden.

The girl is the look of the school.

The snake is the look of the Gorgon.

Ice is the look of cool. 

The clouds are the look of the weather.

The hand is the look of the glove.

The bird is the look of the feather.

You are the look of love.



Carol Ann Duffy





SONNET #18 by: William Shakespeare, from Lander to AmamaBego












SONNET #18

by: William Shakespeare




SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,

Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.






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