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	<title>Paul Boccaccio &#187; mexico</title>
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		<title>Nocturno a Rosario</title>
		<link>http://www.paulboccaccio.com/blog/2010/01/27/nocturno-a-rosario/</link>
		<comments>http://www.paulboccaccio.com/blog/2010/01/27/nocturno-a-rosario/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 Jan 2010 14:48:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Paul</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Books]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mexico]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[spanish]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[wah wah wah]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.paulboccaccio.com/blog/?p=468</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I listened to Librivox&#8217;s first collection of Spanish poetry last night, even though I have very little Spanish. Mostly to hear the way the language fits together, and to feel the cadence of their speech. I especially liked one poem on first listen, Manuel Acu&#241;a&#8217;s Nocturno a Rosario (mp3). The translation doesn&#8217;t impress me&#8212;though, to [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I listened to Librivox&#8217;s first collection of <a href="http://librivox.org/spanish-poetry-collection-001/">Spanish poetry</a> last night, even though I have very little Spanish. Mostly to hear the way the language fits together, and to feel the cadence of their speech. I especially liked one poem on first listen, Manuel Acu&ntilde;a&#8217;s <em>Nocturno a Rosario</em> (<a href="http://www.archive.org/download/spanishpoetry_001_librivox/nocturno_acuna_krs_64kb.mp3">mp3</a>). The translation doesn&#8217;t impress me&mdash;though, to be clear, I don&#8217;t mean the quality of the translation, which I can&#8217;t judge, and I certainly don&#8217;t mean to impugn the skills of long dead Ernest S. Green, nor his translating partner Harriet Von Lowenfels; I mean his actual subject matter&mdash;but I like the original&#8217;s rhythm enough to pardon the rest. He lived from 1849&ndash;1873, so I cut him some slack: it was a sentimental century. </p>
<p>(Too, he killed himself after writing it, so there&#8217;s that added weight.)</p>
<p>For your convenience, since I can&#8217;t find the English and Spanish side-by-side, or formatted in a readable way, I&#8217;ve included the poem below:</p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0">
<tr>
<td>Nocturn to Rosario</p>
<p>Well, then, I am compelled<br />
to say that I adore thee;<br />
to tell thee that I love thee<br />
with all my heart;<br />
that there is much I suffer,<br />
and that much I weep;<br />
that more I can not bear,<br />
and at the cry in which I implore<br />
I entreat thee and speak in the name<br />
of my lost illusions.<br />
I want you to know<br />
that already many days<br />
have I been ill and pallid<br />
from so much lost sleep;<br />
that all my hopes<br />
have already died;<br />
that my nights are dark—<br />
so black and gloomy<br />
that I know not even where<br />
the future is fled.<br />
At night, when I rest<br />
my temples on my pillow,<br />
and towards another world<br />
I wish to turn my mind,<br />
I walk on, and on,<br />
and at my journey&#8217;s end<br />
the forms of my parents<br />
are lost in vacancy,<br />
and thou again returnest<br />
to appear in my heart.<br />
I understand thy kisses<br />
are never to be mine;<br />
I understand that in thine eyes<br />
I ne&#8217;er shall see myself;<br />
and I love thee, and in my mad<br />
and ardent deliriums<br />
I bless thy frowns;<br />
I admire thy indifference.<br />
And instead of loving thee less<br />
I worship thee much more.<br />
At times I think of giving thee<br />
my eternal farewell;<br />
to blot thee from my memory<br />
and drown thee in my passion;<br />
but if all be in vain,<br />
and my soul forget thee not,<br />
what wilt thou that I do,<br />
part of my life,<br />
what wilt thou that I do<br />
with this—my heart?<br />
And then, when thy sanctuary<br />
was completed,<br />
thy lamp was burning,<br />
thy veil on the altar.<br />
The sun of the morning<br />
behind the belfry,<br />
the torches emitting sparks,<br />
the incensory smoking,<br />
and there, open in the distance,<br />
the door of my home.<br />
How beautiful it would have been<br />
to live beneath that roof,<br />
we two united always,<br />
and always loving each other;<br />
thou always enamored;<br />
I always contented;<br />
we two a soul in one;<br />
we two a single heart;<br />
and between thee and me,<br />
my mother like a god.<br />
Imagine thou how beautiful<br />
the hours of such a life!<br />
How sweet and beautiful the journey<br />
through such a land!<br />
And I dreamed of that,<br />
my holy betrothed,<br />
and when upon it delirating<br />
with my trembling heart,<br />
I thought to be good<br />
for thee, and for thee only.<br />
Well knows God that this was<br />
my most beautiful dream;<br />
my anxiety and my hope;<br />
my happiness and my joy.<br />
Well knows God that in nothing<br />
did I abridge my diligence,<br />
but to love thee much<br />
within the smiling home<br />
that wrapped me in its kisses<br />
when it saw my birth.<br />
Such was my hope—<br />
but now, against its brightness,<br />
is opposed the deep abyss<br />
that exists between the two.<br />
Farewell for the last time,<br />
love of my affections;<br />
the light of my darkness,<br />
the essence of my flowers<br />
my poet&#8217;s lyre,<br />
my youth, farewell!
</td>
<td>
Nocturno a Rosario</p>
<p>Pues bien, yo necesito<br />
decirte que te adoro,<br />
decirte que te quiero<br />
con todo el corazón;<br />
que es mucho lo que sufro,<br />
que es mucho lo que lloro,<br />
que ya no puedo tanto,<br />
y al grito que te imploro<br />
te imploro y te hablo en nombre<br />
de mi última ilusión.<br />
De noche cuando pongo<br />
mis sienes en la almohada,<br />
y hacia otro mundo quiero<br />
mi espíritu volver,<br />
camino mucho, mucho<br />
y al fin de la jornada<br />
las formas de mi madre<br />
se pierden en la nada,<br />
y tú de nuevo vuelves<br />
en mi alma a aparecer.<br />
Comprendo que tus besos<br />
jamás han de ser míos;<br />
comprendo que en tus ojos<br />
no me he de ver jamás;<br />
y te amo, y en mis locos<br />
y ardientes desvaríos<br />
bendigo tus desdenes,<br />
adoro tus desvíos,<br />
y en vez de amarte menos<br />
te quiero mucho más.<br />
A veces pienso en darte<br />
mi eterna despedida,<br />
borrarte en mis recuerdos<br />
y huir de esta pasión;<br />
mas si es en vano todo<br />
y mi alma no te olvida,<br />
¡qué quieres tú que yo haga<br />
pedazo de mi vida;<br />
qué quieres tú que yo haga<br />
con este corazón!<br />
Y luego que ya estaba?<br />
concluido el santuario,<br />
la lámpara encendida<br />
tu velo en el altar,<br />
el sol de la mañana<br />
detrás del campanario,<br />
chispeando las antorchas,<br />
humeando el incensario,<br />
y abierta allá a lo lejos<br />
la puerta del hogar&#8230;<br />
Yo quiero que tú sepas<br />
que ya hace muchos días<br />
estoy enfermo y pálido<br />
de tanto no dormir;<br />
que ya se han muerto todas<br />
las esperanzas mías;<br />
que están mis noches negras,<br />
tan negras y sombrías<br />
que ya no sé ni dónde<br />
se alzaba el porvenir.<br />
¡Que hermoso hubiera sido<br />
vivir bajo aquel techo.<br />
los dos unidos siempre<br />
y amándonos los dos;<br />
tú siempre enamorada,<br />
yo siempre satisfecho,<br />
los dos, un alma sola,<br />
los dos, un solo pecho,<br />
y en medio de nosotros<br />
mi madre como un Díos!<br />
¡Figúrate qué hermosas<br />
las horas de la vida!<br />
¡Qué dulce y bello el viaje<br />
por una tierra así!<br />
Y yo soñaba en eso,<br />
mi santa prometida,<br />
y al delirar en eso<br />
con alma estremecida,<br />
pensaba yo en ser bueno<br />
por ti, no más por ti.<br />
Bien sabe Díos que ése era<br />
mi más hermoso sueño,<br />
mi afán y mi esperanza,<br />
mi dicha y mi placer;<br />
¡bien sabe Díos que en nada<br />
cifraba yo mi empeño,<br />
sino en amarte mucho<br />
en el hogar risueño<br />
que me envolvió en sus besos<br />
cuando me vio nacer!<br />
Esa era mi esperanza&#8230;<br />
mas ya que a sus fulgores<br />
se opone el hondo abismo<br />
que existe entre los dos,<br />
¡adiós por la última vez,<br />
amor de mis amores;<br />
la luz de mis tinieblas,<br />
la esencia de mis flores,<br />
mi mira de poeta,<br />
mi juventud, adiós!</td>
</tr>
</table>
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