5.
Es verdad que no hay belleza
suficiente en el mundo.
También es verdad que no estoy
calificada para restaurarla.
Tampoco hay candor, y en esto
puedo ser de alguna utilidad.
Estoy
trabajando, aunque callada.
La insípida
miseria del mundo
nos une por ambos lados, un callejón
bordeado por árboles; somos
camaradas allí, sin hablar,
cada uno con sus pensamientos
detrás de los árboles, portones
de hierro de casas
privadas,
los cuartos cerrados
vacíos de algún modo,
abandonados,
como si fuera obligación del
artista
crear
esperanza, ¿pero de dónde? ¿qué?
la palabra en sí
falsa, un recurso para refutar
la percepción — En la intersección,
luces estacionales decorativas.
Era
joven acá. Andando
en
subte con mi pequeño libro
como
si me defendiera a mí misma contra
el mundo
mismo:
no estás sola
decía
el poema
en el oscuro túnel.
De ‘October’
Louise Glück, Nueva York, 1943
En Averno, Farrar, Straus and Giroux,
New York, 2007
Versión © Silvia Camerotto
5.
It is true that there is
not enough beauty in the world.
It is also true that I am not competent to restore it.
Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.
It is also true that I am not competent to restore it.
Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.
I am
at work, though I am silent.
at work, though I am silent.
The bland
misery of the world
bounds us on either side, an alley
bounds us on either side, an alley
lined with trees; we are
companions here, not
speaking,
each with his own thoughts;
each with his own thoughts;
behind the trees, iron
gates of the private houses,
the shuttered rooms
gates of the private houses,
the shuttered rooms
somehow deserted,
abandoned,
as though it were the
artist’s
duty to create
hope, but out of what? what?
duty to create
hope, but out of what? what?
the word itself
false, a device to refute
perception — At the intersection,
false, a device to refute
perception — At the intersection,
ornamental lights of the
season.
I was young here. Riding
the subway with my small book
as though to defend myself against
the subway with my small book
as though to defend myself against
the same world:
you are not alone,
the poem said,
in the dark tunnel.
the poem said,
in the dark tunnel.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario