January 19, 2013

Kindred


V II
The Seeker
By Pablo Neruda


I left to find what I lost
in enemy cities:
streets and doors closed on me,
they attacked me with fire and water,
they hurled shit at me.
I wanted only to find
broken toys in my dreams,
a small glass horse
or my exhumed clock.

No one wanted to understand
my melancholy destiny,
my absolute disinterest.

In vain I explained to women
that I was not out to steal anything,
nor to murder their grandmothers.
They screamed with fear at the sight
of me climbing from a cupboard
or entering through the chimney.

Still, through long days
and nights of violet rain
I made my expeditions:
furtively over the roofs and tiles
I crossed, passing through
those hostile mansions,
and even under the carpet
I fought and fought against forgetting.

I never found what I was looking for.

No one had my horse,
or my loves, or my rose
I lost like so many kisses
on the waist of my beloved.

I was imprisoned, mistreated,
misunderstood and wounded
as a proven evildoer,
and I no longer seek my shadow.
I am as serious as the others,
but miss what I loved:
the leaves of sweetness
that fall one by one
until you are ever motionless,
truly naked.


 V II  
El Que Busco´
De Pablo Neruda


Sali a encontrar lo que perdi´
en las ciudades enemigas:
me cerraban calles y puertas,
me atacaban con fuego y agua,
me disparaban excrementos.
Yo solo queria encontrar
juguetes rotos en los sueƱos,
un cabillito de cristal
o mi reloj desenterrado.


Nadie queria comprender
mi melancolico destino,
mi desinteres absoluto.


En vano explique a las mujeres
que no queria robar nada,
ni asesinar a sus abuelas.
Deban gritos de miedo al ver
que yo salia de un armario
o entraba por la chimenea.


Sin embargo, por largos dias
y noches de lluvia violeta
mantuve mis expediciones:
furtivamente atravese 
a traves de techos y tejas
aquellas mansiones hostiles
y hasta debajo de la alfombra
luche´y luche´contra el olvido.


Nunca encontre´lo que buscaba.


Nadie tenia mi caballo,
ni mis amores, ni la rosa
que perdi´como tantos besos
en la cintura de mi amada.


Fui encarcelado y malherido,
incomprendido y lesionado
como un malhechor evidente
y ahora no busco mi sombra.
Soy tan serio como los otros,
pero mi falta lo que ame:
el follaje de la dulzura
que se desprende hoja por hoja
hasta que te quedas inmovil,
verdaderamente desnudo.



 
  


     

 

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