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Lantern that was
a lamplight, a clock
Every flickered minute billows into
a wind-corpse invisible or flutters
burning clock into stirrings flashed
across the very thing you forfeit.
Each glow each sigh and every beam's
a flare of splendors compliant but on
the brink of undoing what they grieve by
living what's perished at every passing.
The longer it waxes a winged life--so
death may claim--the greater peril
the clock's to face at its final waning.
Provisional glimmer outburn yourself,
for living longer is with each new death
to embody a view to further deception.
…………………………………………………………………
Un velón que era candil y reloj
Invisibles cadáveres de viento
son los instantes en que vas volando,
reloj ardiente, cuando vas brillando
contra tu privación tu movimiento.
Cada luz, cada rayo, cada aliento
en ese vuelo de esplendores blando,
va deshaciendo lo que va llorando,
vive lo que murió cada momento.
Cuando durase más su alada vida,
dirá la muerte, más peligros visto
ha este reloj en sus fatales suertes.
Acábate ya, efímera lucida,
que haber vivido más es haber visto
mayores desengaños por más muertes.
[Luis de Sandoval Zapata, 1620?-1671]
•••
When I pause to consider my calling, remark
the places a wayward temper impelled me
I've found in light of where I wandered lost
the most appalling evils could have befallen;
but when I disregard the journey it's hard to
even fathom I endured so much affliction;
what's more, my days being spent, I feel I've
seen my wariness go with them. I'll come to
my end, for I surrendered artless to those
with the science to dispel and destroy me if
so inclined, and the know-how of wanting to;
but if, with this very hand I could slaughter
myself: why--not on my account but because
so suited--would my enemies do otherwise?
..............................................................................
Cuando me paro a contemplar mi estado
y a ver los pasos por do me han traído,
hallo, según por do anduve, perdido,
que la mayor mal pudiera haber llegado;
mas cuando del camino estó olvidado,
a tanto mal no sé por dó he venido;
sé que me acabo, y más he yo sentido
ver acabar comigo mi cuidado.
Yo acabaré, que me entregué sin arte
a quien sabrá perderme y acabarme
si quisiere, y aún sabrá querello;
que, pues mi voluntad puede matarme,
la suya, que no es tanto de mi parte,
pudiendo, ¿qué hará sino hacello?
[Garcilaso de la Vega, 1501?-1536; Sonnet 14 ]
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Roberto Tejada is the author of two collections of poetry,
Gift + Verdict (San Francisco: Leroy Books, 1999) and
Amulet Anatomy (New Haven, Connecticut: Phylum Press,
2001). He has published widely as a literary translator,
most recently in José Lezama Lima: Selections, edited
by Ernesto Livon-Grosman (University of California Press,
2005). His book, Travels in the Image Environment: Camera
Culture Out of Mexico, 1900 and After, is forthcoming
from the University of Minnesota Press.
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