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    The Captain's Verses


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      THE

      CAPTAIN’S

      VERSES

      Los versos del

      Capitán

      PABLO NERUDA

      THE

      CAPTAIN’S

      VERSES

      Los versos del

      Capitán

      Bilingual

      Translated by DONALD D. WALSH

      A NEW DIRECTIONS BOOK

      INTRODUCTION (1972)

      Pablo Neruda, the poet and activist who is now Chilean ambassador to France, is often held to be the greatest poet of this century writing in any language. He is a fierily political poet, the author of España en el corazón (“Spain in Our Hearts,” 1937), one of the noblest expressions of the agony of the Spanish Republic. He is also a fiery poet of love: Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada (“Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair,” 1924), Cien sonetos de amor (“A Hundred Love Sonnets,” 1959).

      Los versos del Capitán is another of Neruda’s volumes of love poetry. In it he writes simply, directly, forcefully, earthily of his love for and his lover’s quarrels with Matilde Urrutia, whom he married in 1955. Perhaps because of the autobiographical nature of the poems, Neruda published them anonymously in 1952. Later, in an “Explanation” prefacing a 1963 edition that acknowledged the work as his own, he wrote (and I translate): “There has been much discussion about the anonymity of this book. What I debated with myself, meanwhile, was whether or not I should remove it from its intimate origin: to reveal its source was to strip bare the intimacy of its birth. And it did not seem to me that such an action would be loyal to the ecstasies of love and fury, to the disconsolate and ardent climate that gave birth to it.

      “In some ways I think that all books should be anonymous. But between removing my name from all my books and restoring it to the most mysterious one, I yielded, finally, though with no great pleasure.

      “Why did I preserve its mystery so long? For no reason and for all reasons, for this and for that, for improper joys, for alien sufferings. When Paolo Rjcci, luminous companion, printed it for the first time in Naples in 1952, we thought that the few copies that he prepared with superb care would disappear and leave no traces in the southern sands.

      “It didn’t turn out that way. And the life that demanded its secret explosion now imposes it on me as the presence of lasting love.

      “And so I present this book with no further explanation, as if it were mine and not mine: it is enough that it should be able to go through the world on its own and grow by itself. Now that I recognize it I hope that its furious blood will recognize me, too.”

      Since Neruda expresses his poetic ideas very simply and directly, it is possible to translate him quite literally with no loss of validity, as will be seen by any reader with a knowledge of the two languages.

      Four of these translations (“In You the Earth,” “The Queen,” “The Potter,” “Night on the Island”) have been published in The Atlantic Monthly and the translator hereby gratefully acknowledges permission to reprint them.

      Madison, Connecticut/November, 1972 D.D.W.

      NOTE: Pablo Neruda died in a hospital in Santiago, Chile on September 23, 1973.

      CONTENTS

      Introduction

      EL AMOR / LOVE

      En ti la tierra / In You the Earth

      La reina / The Queen

      El alfarero / The Potter

      8 de septiembre / September 8th

      Tus pies / Your Feet

      Tus manos / Your Hands

      Tu risa / Your Laughter

      El inconstante / The Fickle One

      La noche en la isla / Night on the Island

      El viento en la isla / Wind on the Island

      La infinita / The Infinite One

      Bella / Lovely One

      La rama robada / The Stolen Branch

      El hijo / The Son

      La tierra / The Earth

      Ausencia / Absence

      EL DESEO / DESIRE

      El tigre / The Tiger

      El cóndor / The Condor

      El insecto / The Insect

      LAS FURIAS / THE FURIES

      El amor / Love

      Siempre / Always

      El desvío / The Slip

      La pregunta / The Question

      La pródiga / The Waster

      El daño / The Hurt

      El pozo / The Well

      El sueño / The Dream

      Si tú me olvidas / If You Forget Me

      El olvido / Oblivion

      Las muchachas / Girls

      Tú venías / You Would Come

      LAS VIDAS / LIVES

      El monte y el río / The Mountain and the River

      La pobreza / Poverty

      Las vidas / Lives

      La bandera / The Flag

      El amor del soldado / The Soldier’s Love

      No sólo el fuego / Not Only the Fire

      La muerta / The Dead Woman

      Pequeña América / Little America

      ODA Y GERMINACIONES / ODE AND BURGEONINGS

      EPITALAMIO / EPITHALAMIUM

      LA CARTA EN EL CAMINO / LETTER ON THE ROAD

      THE CAPTAIN’S VERSES

      (Los versos del Capitán)

      EL AMOR

      EN TILA TIERRA

      Pequeña

      rosa,

      rosa pequeña,

      a veces,

      diminuta y desnuda,

      parece

      que en una mano mía

      cabes,

      que así voy a cerrarte

      y llevarte a mi boca,

      pero

      de pronto

      mis pies tocan tus pies y mi boca tus labios:

      has crecido,

      suben tus hombros como dos colinas,

      tus pechos se pasean por mi pecho,

      mi brazo alcanza apenas a rodear la delgada

      línea de luna nueva que tiene tu cintura:

      en el amor como agua de mar te has desatado:

      mido apenas los ojos más extensos del cielo

      y me inclino a tu boca para besar la tierra.

      LOVE

      IN YOU THE EARTH

      Little

      rose,

      roselet,

      at times,

      tiny and naked,

      it seems

      as though you would fit

      in one of my hands,

      as though I’ll clasp you like this

      and carry you to my mouth,

      but

      suddenly

      my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:

      you have grown,

      your shoulders rise like two hills,

      your breasts wander over my breast,

      my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin

      new-moon line of your waist:

      in love you have loosened yourself like sea water:

      I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes

      and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.

      LA REINA

      Yo te he nombrado reina.

      Hay más altas que tú, más altas.

      Hay mas puras que tú, más puras.

      Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas.

      Pero tú eres la reina.

      Cuando vas por las calles

      nadie te reconoce.

      Nadie ve tu corona de cristal, nadie mira

      la alfombra de oro rojo

      que pisas cuando pasas,

      la alfombra que no existe.

      Y cuando asomas

      suenan todos los ríos

      en mi cuerpo, sacuden

      el cielo las campanas,

      y un himno llena el mundo.

      Sólo tú y yo,

      sólo tú y yo, amor mío,

      lo escuchamos.

      THE QUEEN

      I have named you queen.


      There are taller ones than you, taller.

      There are purer ones than you, purer.

      There are lovelier than you, lovelier.

      But you are the queen.

      When you go through the streets

      no one recognizes you.

      No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks

      at the carpet of red gold

      that you tread as you pass,

      the nonexistent carpet.

      And when you appear

      all the rivers sound

      in my body, bells

      shake the sky,

      and a hymn fills the world.

      Only you and I,

      only you and I, my love,

      listen to it.

      EL ALFARERO

      Todo tu cuerpo tiene

      copa o dulzura destinada a mí.

      Cuando subo la mano

      encuentro en cada sitio una paloma

      que me buscaba, como

      si te hubieran, amor, hecho de arcilla

      para mis propias manos de alfarero.

      Tus rodillas, tus senos,

      tu cintura

      faltan en mí como en el hueco

      de una tierra sedienta

      de la que desprendieron

      una forma,

      y juntos

      somos completos como un solo río,

      como una sola arena.

      THE POTTER

      Your whole body has

      a fullness or a gentleness destined for me.

      When I move my hand up

      I find in each place a dove

      that was seeking me, as

      if they had, love, made you of clay

      for my own potter’s hands.

      Your knees, your breasts,

      your waist

      are missing parts of me like the hollow

      of a thirsty earth

      from which they broke off

      a form,

      and together

      we are complete like a single river,

      like a single grain of sand.

      8 DE SEPTIEMBRE

      Hoy, este día fue una copa plena,

      hoy, este día fue la inmensa ola,

      hoy, fue toda la tierra.

      Hoy el mar tempestuoso

      nos levantó en un beso

      tan alto que temblamos

      a la luz de un relámpago

      y, atados, descendimos

      a sumergirnos sin desenlazarnos.

      Hoy nuestros cuerpos se hicieron extensos,

      crecieron hasta el límite del mundo

      y rodaron fundiéndose

      en una sola gota

      de cera o meteoro.

      Entre tú y yo se abrió una nueva puerta

      y alguien, sin rostro aún,

      allí nos esperaba.

      SEPTEMBER 8TH

      Today, this day was a brimming cup,

      today, this day was the immense wave,

      today, it was all the earth.

      Today the stormy sea

      lifted us in a kiss

      so high that we trembled

      in a lightningflash

      and, tied, we went down

      to sink without untwining.

      Today our bodies became vast,

      they grew to the edge of the world

      and rolled melting

      into a single drop

      of wax or meteor.

      Between you and me a new door opened

      and someone, still faceless,

      was waiting for us there.

      TUS PIES

      Cuando no puedo mirar tu cara

      miro tus pies.

      Tus pies de hueso arqueado,

      tus pequeños pies duros.

      Yo sé que te sostienen,

      y que tu dulce peso

      sobre ellos se levanta.

      Tu cintura y tus pechos,

      la duplicada púrpura

      de tus pezones,

      la caja de tus ojos

      que recién han volado,

      tu ancha boca de fruta,

      tu cabellera roja,

      pequeña torre mía.

      Pero no amo tus pies

      sino porque anduvieron

      sobre la tierra y sobre

      el viento y sobre el agua,

      hasta que me encontraron.

      YOUR FEET

      When I can not look at your face

      I look at your feet.

      Your feet of arched bone,

      your hard little feet.

      I know that they support you,

      and that your gentle weight

      rises upon them.

      Your waist and your breasts,

      the doubled purple

      of your nipples,

      the sockets of your eyes

      that have just flown away,

      your wide fruit mouth,

      your red tresses,

      my little tower.

      But I love your feet

      only because they walked

      upon the earth and upon

      the wind and upon the waters,

      until they found me.

      TUS MANOS

      Cuando tus manos salen,

      amor, hacia las mías,

      qué me traen volando?

      Por qué se detuvieron

      en mi boca, de pronto,

      por qué las reconozco

      como si entonces, antes,

      las hubiera tocado,

      como si antes de ser

      hubieran recorrido

      mi frente, mi cintura?

      Su suavidad venía

      volando sobre el tiempo,

      sobre el mar, sobre el humo,

      sobre la primavera,

      y cuando tú pusiste

      tus manos en mi pecho,

      reconocí esas alas

      de paloma dorada,

      reconocí esa greda

      y ese color de trigo.

      Los años de mi vida

      yo caminé buscándolas.

      Subí las escaleras,

      crucé los arrecifes,

      me llevaron los trenes,

      las aguas me trajeron,

      y en la piel de las uvas

      me pareció tocarte.

      La madera de pronto

      me trajo tu contacto,

      la almendra me anunciaba

      tu suavidad secreta,

      hasta que se cerraron

      tus manos en mi pecho

      y allí como dos alas

      terminaron su viaje.

      YOUR HANDS

      When your hands go out,

      love, toward mine,

      what do they bring me flying?

      Why did they stop

      at my mouth, suddenly,

      why do I recognize them

      as if then, before,

      I had touched them,

      as if before they existed

      they had passed over

      my forehead, my waist?

      Their softness came

      flying over time,

      over the sea, over the smoke,

      over the spring,

      and when you placed

      your hands on my chest,

      I recognized those golden

      dove wings,

      I recognized that clay

      and that color of wheat.

      All the years of my life

      I walked around looking for them.

      I went up the stairs,

      I crossed the roads,

      trains carried me,

      waters brought me,

      and in the skin of the grapes

      I thought I touched you.

      The wood suddenly

      brought me your touch,

      the almond announced to me

      your secret softness,

      until your hands

      closed on my chest

      and there like two wings

      they ended their journey.

      TU RISA

      Quítame el pan, si quieres,

      quítame el aire, pero

      no me quites tu risa.

      No me quites la rosa
    ,

      la lanza que desgranas,

      el agua que de pronto

      estalla en tu alegría,

      la repentina ola

      de plata que te nace.

      Mi lucha es dura y vuelvo

      con los ojos cansados

      a veces de haber visto

      la tierra que no cambia,

      pero al entrar tu risa

      sube al cielo buscándome

      y abre para mí todas

      las puertas de la vida.

      Amor mío, en la hora

      más oscura desgrana

      tu risa, y si de pronto

      ves que mi sangre mancha

      las piedras de la calle,

      ríe, porque tu risa

      será para mis manos

      como una espada fresca.

      Junto al mar en otoño,

      tu risa debe alzar

      su cascada de espuma,

      y en primavera, amor,

      quiero tu risa como

      la flor que yo esperaba,

      la flor azul, la rosa

      de mi patria sonora.

      Ríete de la noche,

      del día, de la luna,

      ríete de las calles

      torcidas de la isla,

      ríete de este torpe

      muchacho que te quiere,

      pero cuando yo abro

      los ojos y los cierro,

      cuando mis pasos van,

      cuando vuelven mis pasos,

      niégame el pan, el aire,

      la luz, la primavera,

      pero tu risa nunca

      porque me moriría.

      YOUR LAUGHTER

      Take bread away from me, if you wish,

      take air away, but

      do not take from me your laughter.

     


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