EXTRA-- poetic...
by moi, with iharthdarth art
i've been feeling strangely... poetic these days. and since i can't rhyme when i set my mind to it (i can only do it unintentionally-- it happens a lot, actually. at times i feel like i was taken out of a dr. seuss book >.<), i'll post up some of my favorite pieces by my favorite poet, jose angel buesa. if you can read them in spanish please do so-- the originals are so much better than my crappy translations.
Poema del Renunciamiento / Poem of Giving Up
Pasarás por mi vida sin saber que pasaste.
Pasarás en silencio por mi amor y, al pasar,
fingiré una sonrisa, como un dulce contraste
del dolor de quererte... y jamás lo sabrás.
Soñaré con el nácar virginal de tu frente;
soñaré con tus ojos de esmeraldas de mar;
soñaré con tus labios desesperadamente;
soñaré con tus besos... y jamás lo sabrás.
Quizás pases con otro que te diga al oído
esas frases que nadie como yo te dirá;
y, ahogando para siempre mi amor inadvertido,
te amaré más que nunca... y jamás lo sabrás.
Yo te amaré en silencio, como algo inaccesible,
como un sueño que nunca lograré realizar;
y el lejano perfume de mi amor imposible
rozará tus cabellos... y jamás lo sabrás.
Y si un día una lágrima denuncia mi tormento
--el tormento infinito que te debo ocultar--
te diré sonriente: "No es nada... Ha sido el viento."
Me enjugaré la lágrima... y ¡jamás lo sabrás!
You'll pass through my life without knowing you ever did.
You'll pass in silence through my love, and as you pass
I will fake a smile, as a sweet contrast
to the pain of loving you... and you'll never know.
I will dream about your forehead's virginal mother-of-pearl glow;
I will dream about your sea-emerald eyes;
I will dream desperately about your lips;
I will dream about your kisses... and you'll never know.
Maybe you'll pass by with someone else, who'll whisper in your ear
those phrases that nobody can tell you as I could;
and drowning my unknown love forever,
I will love you more than ever... and you'll never know.
I will love you in silence, like an unreachable thing,
like a dream that will never come true;
and the far away perfume of my impossible love
will touch your hair... and you'll never know.
And if one day a tear reveals my torment,
--the infinite torment that I must hide from you--
I will tell you, smiling: "It's nothing... just the wind."
I will dry the tear... and you'll never know!
i wrote the first stanza of this poem in the blackboard in the living room yesterday. i was feeling particularly bad about... him again, and darn it if this doesn't convey just what i'm going through... anyway, i wrote it in the blackboard and all my roommates could comment was "wooo!," "someone's in love!" and a slew of happy faces. i swear if i wasn't so determined to avoid the topic in front of them, i'd kick them. don't they know that if someone goes to this poem is because they're hurting? "woo, someone's in love" is just a completely WRONG reply to this. but whatever, at this point i'm past caring.
Poema de la Culpa / Poem of Guilt
Yo la amé, y era de otro que también la quería.
Perdónala, Señor, porque la culpa es mía.
Después de haber besado sus cabellos de trigo,
nada importa la culpa, pues no importa el castigo.
Fue un pecado quererla, Señor, y, sin embargo,
mis labios están dulces por ese amor amargo.
Ella fue como un agua callada que corría...
Si es culpa tener sed, toda la culpa es mía.
Perdónala, Señor, Tú que le diste a ella
su frescura de lluvia y su esplendor de estrella.
Su alma era transparente como un vaso vacío.
Yo la llené de amor. Todo el pecado es mío.
Pero ¿cómo no amarla, si Tú hiciste que fuera
turbadora y fragante como la primavera?
¿Cómo no haberla amado, si era como el rocío
sobre la yerba seca y ávida del estío?
Traté de rechazarla, Señor, inútilmente,
como un surco que intenta rechazar la simiente.
Era de otro. Era de otro que no la merecía,
y por eso, en sus brazos, seguía siendo mía.
Era de otro, Señor. Pero hay cosas sin dueño:
las rosas y los ríos, y el amor y el ensueño.
Y ella me dio su amor como se da una rosa,
como quien lo da todo, dando tan poca cosa...
Una embriaguez extraña nos venció poco a poco.
¡Ella no fue culpable, Señor... ni yo tampoco!
La culpa es toda tuya, porque la hiciste bella,
y me diste los ojos para mirarla a ella.
Toda la culpa es tuya, pues me hiciste cobarde
para matar un sueño porque llegaba tarde.
Sí. Nuestra culpa es tuya, si es una culpa amar
y si es culpable un río cuando corre hacia el mar.
Es tan bella, Señor, y tan suave, y tan clara,
que sería un pecado mayor si no la amara.
Y por eso perdóname, Señor, porque es tan bella,
que Tú, que hiciste el agua, y la flor, y la estrella;
Tú, que oyes el lamento de este dolor sin nombre,
¡Tú también la amarías si pudieras ser hombre!
I loved her, and she belonged to another who also loved her.
Forgive her, Lord, the fault is mine.
After having kissed her wheat-like hair,
guilt doesn't matter, because punishment doesn't matter.
It was a sin to love her, Lord, and even so,
my lips taste sweet because of that bitter love.
She was like quiet running water...
If it's wrong to be thirsty, then the fault is mine.
Forgive her, Lord, for you gave her
freshness like rain and a shine like a star.
Her soul was transparent like an empty glass.
I filled her with love. All the sin is mine.
But how could I not love her, if you made her
disturbing (*) and fragrant like the spring?
How could I not love her, if she was like the dew
that covers the dry grass in the summer?
I tried to reject her, Lord, and it was useless,
like the furrow trying to reject the seed.
She was someone else's. She belonged to another that didn't deserve her,
and that's why, in his arms, she was still mine.
She was someone else's, Lord. But there are things that can't be owned,
roses and rivers, and love and daydreams.
And she gave me her love like one gives a rose,
like one gives everything, giving so little...
A strange drunkenness won us over little by little.
It wasn't her fault, Lord... nor was it mine!
It's all your fault, because you made her beautiful,
and you gave me eyes to look at her.
It was all your fault, because you made me a coward
when it comes to killing a dream that comes by late.
Yes. Our fault is yours, if there is any fault in loving
and if there is fault in a river flowing to the sea.
She's so beautiful, Lord, and so soft, and so clear,
that it would be an even bigger sin not to love her.
And forgive me for that, Lord, because she is so beautiful,
that You, who made the water, and the flower, and the star;
You, who are listening to this nameless man's pain,
you would love her too, if you could be a man!
(*) "disturbing" in the good sense of the word. as in distracting, agitating... i couldn't find a better word, sorry -.-;;;
Poema de la Despedida / Poem of Goodbye
Te digo adiós, y acaso te quiero todavía.
Quizá no he de olvidarte, pero te digo adiós.
No sé si me quisiste... No sé si te quería...
O tal vez nos quisimos demasiado los dos.
Este cariño triste, y apasionado, y loco,
me lo sembré en el alma para quererte a ti.
No sé si te amé mucho... no sé si te amé poco;
pero sí sé que nunca volveré a amar así.
Me queda tu sonrisa dormida en mi recuerdo,
y el corazón me dice que no te olvidaré;
pero, al quedarme solo, sabiendo que te pierdo,
tal vez empiezo a amarte como jamás te amé.
Te digo adiós, y acaso, con esta despedida,
mi más hermoso sueño muere dentro de mí...
Pero te digo adiós, para toda la vida,
aunque toda la vida siga pensando en ti.
I bid you goodbye, and perhaps I still love you.
Maybe I won't forget you, but I bid you goodbye.
I don't know if you loved me... I don't know if I loved you...
Or maybe we loved each other too much.
This sad, and passionate, and crazy affection,
I planted it in my soul to love you.
I don't know if I loved you a lot... I don't know if I loved you a little;
but I know that I will never love this way again.
I will keep your smile sleeping in my memory,
and my heart tells me I won't forget you;
but, as I'm left alone, knowing I lose you,
maybe I start to love you like I never loved you before.
I bid you goodbye, and perhaps, with this farewell,
my most beautiful dream dies inside of me...
But I bid you goodbye, for the rest of my life,
even if for the rest of my life I'll keep thinking about you.
Poema del Poema / Poem of the Poem
Quizás pases con otro que te diga al oído
esas frases que nadie como yo te dirá;
y, ahogando para siempre mi amor inadvertido
¡te amaré más que nunca... y jamás lo sabrás!
La desolada estrofa, como si fuera un ala,
voló sobre el silencio... y tú estabas allí:
Allí en el más oscuro rincón de aquella sala,
estabas tú, escuchando mis versos para ti.
Y tú, la inaccesible mujer de ese poema
que ofrece su perfume pero oculta su flor,
quizás supiste entonces la amargura suprema
de quien ama la vida porque muere de amor.
Y tú, que nada sabes, que tal vez ni recuerdes
aquellos versos tristes y amargos como el mar,
cerraste en un suspiro tus grandes ojos verdes,
los grandes ojos verdes que nunca he de olvidar.
Después, se irguió tu cuerpo como una primavera,
mujer hoy y mañana distante como ayer...
vi que te distanciabas sin sospechar siquiera
¡que yo soy aquel hombre... y tú aquella mujer!
Maybe you'll pass by with someone else, who'll whisper in your ear
those phrases that nobody can tell you as I could;
and drowning my unknown love forever,
I will love you more than ever... and you'll never know!
The desolate verse, like a wing,
flew over the silence... and you were there:
there, in the darkest corner of that room,
there you were, hearing my verses for you.
And you, the inaccessible woman from that poem
that offers her perfume but hides her flower,
perhaps then you knew the supreme bitterness
of he who loves life because he dies of love.
And you, who knows nothing, who maybe can't remember
those verses that are sad and bitter like the sea,
closed with a sigh your big green eyes,
those big green eyes that I won't ever forget.
Then, your body straightened up like spring,
woman today and tomorrow distant like yesterday...
I saw you get away without even suspecting
that I am that man... and you are that woman!
this is my favorite poem by buesa... i don't know why, it really doesn't make much sense. i loved the way he used the stanza from el poema del renunciamiento and developed a whole new idea from something so simple as a woman listening to his poem. it's awesome to me.
and boy, i didn't think they'd all be sad poems. i'll look for something different next time-- maybe the poem about the guy that's buried alive? xD i'm sure i've read happier poems by buesa, really.
if you guys could be so nice as to rate my icon post at pickmybest? i'd really like to know which of those icons are the best and why. just a little constructive criticism, is all.