Musée
des Beaux Arts
Sobre
el sufrimiento jamás se equivocaron,
los
viejos maestros: qué bien comprendieron
su
humanitario lugar; como ocurre
mientras
alguien come o abre la ventana o nada más
camina
por ahí aburrido;
como
cuando los viejos esperan reverentes, apasionados
el
milagroso nacimiento, siempre debe haber
niños
que no desearon que ocurra nada en particular, patinando
en
un estanque bordeando el bosque;
jamás
olvidaron
que
incluso el horrible martirio debe seguir su curso
de
todos modos en un rincón, algún lugar abandonado
donde
los perros continúan con sus
vidas
de perro y el torturador de caballos
desgarra al inocente detrás de un árbol.
En
el Ícaro de Brueghel, por ejemplo: como todo se aleja
sin
prisa del desastre; el labrador podría
haber
oído el chapoteo, el llanto desamparado,
pero
para él no fue un fracaso importante; el sol brillaba
como
debía sobre las piernas blancas que desaparecían en el
agua
a la orilla; y el costoso y delicado barco que debió haber visto
algo
asombroso, un chico cayendo del cielo,
tenía
un lugar a donde ir y navegó en calma.
1940
W.H. Auden, New York, 1907 – Viena, 1973
Versión
©Silvia Camerotto
Imagen Peter Brueghel
Musée
des Beaux Arts
About
suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just
walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy
life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just
walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy
life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In
Brueghel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
1940
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