miércoles, diciembre 10, 2008

versión I


Allow not nature more than nature needs.
Thou art a lady; man's life's as cheap as beast's.
O, reason not the end.
You heavens, give me patience.
You see me here as full of grief as age.
This heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws.
The entire world shall have full cause of weeping.
The poorest basest beggar shall be my stain,
but I'll not weep. What such things are,
not water-drops, nor hags, just old superfluous things
in both. The need but true need let not, not you
but them, to think what reason is.
Shall I go mad? O Fool!
I am wretched with noble anger but
do know not the terrors of the earth.
You gods which scarcely keep me warm,
touch me with women's weapons against the father
and be it you that stir my heart.
Fool me not so much to bear it tamely.

King Lear, Act II, Scene IV

O, reason not the need: our basest beggars 260
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need, ——
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall ——I will do such things——,
What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
No, I'll not weep:
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep. O Fool, I shall go mad!


¡Oh, no razonéis sobre la necesidad: nuestros más humildes mendigos /Son superficiales aún en la pobreza./No concedáis a la naturaleza más de lo que necesita,/La vida del hombre es tan poca cosa como la de la bestia: vos sois una dama;/Si el esplendor consiste solo en andar abrigado, /Entonces, la naturaleza no necesita de vuestros vestidos esplendorosos,
/Que apenas os brindan un poco de calor. En cuanto a la verdadera necesidad, —/¡Cielos, dadme paciencia, es paciencia lo que necesito!/¡Vosotros, Dioses, me veis aquí, un pobre anciano,/Tan lleno de dolor como de años; desgraciado en ambos!/Si sois vosotros los que agitáis los corazones de estas hijas/En contra de su padre, no me hagáis tan tonto/Como para soportarlo mansamente; tocadme con la noble furia,/¡Y no dejéis que las armas femeninas, las gotas de agua,/Manchen mis mejillas de hombre! No, vosotras arpías desnaturalizadas,/Me vengaré de ambas de tal manera,/Que el mundo entero —sí, haré tales cosas—,/Ignoro aún cuáles son: pero sí serán/El terror de la tierra. Pensáis que lloraré.
No, no lloraré:/Tengo motivos suficientes para hacerlo; pero este corazón/Se romperá en cien mil pedazos, /Antes de llorar. ¡Oh, Bufón, me volveré loco!

versión ©silvia camerotto

5 comentarios:

gabrielaa. dijo...

Fool me not so much to bear it tamely.

sibila dijo...

if it would...

gabrielaa. dijo...

hey
we will NOT go gently

sibila dijo...

we won't
what brought you here?

gabrielaa. dijo...

hmmm can't remember :P
life, I guess

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