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En la cama vacía, en la caverna de Platón,
Las luces reflejadas se deslizaron lentamente sobre la pared,
Los carpinteros martillearon bajo la ventana en sombras,
El viento movió toda la noche las cortinas,
Una flota de camiones cuesta arriba, renqueando,
Con la carga cubierta, como de costumbre.
El techo se iluminó una vez más, el diagrama inclinado
se deslizó hacia delante con lentitud.
Al escuchar los pasos del lechero,
su esfuerzo en la escalera, el sonido de las botellas,
me levanté de la cama, encendí un pitillo,
y me acerqué a la ventana. La calle de piedra
fue testigo del silencio de los edificios,
la vigilia de los faroles y la paciencia del caballo.
El cielo puro del invierno
me empujó a la cama con ojos cansados.
La extrañeza crecía en el aire inmóvil. La flotante neblina
se volvió gris. Temblorosos vagones, cataratas de cascos
sonaban en la lejanía, cada vez más fuerte y más cerca.
Un coche tosió al arrancar. La mañana fundiendo
el aire con suavidad, levantó las sillas semicubiertas
Desde el fondo del mar, encendió el espejo,
iluminó la cómoda y la pared blanca.
El pájaro ensayó su canto, silbó, gorjeó,
trinó y silbó, así! Perplejo, todavía húmedo
Por el sueño, afectuoso, hambriento y frío. Así, así
Oh hijo del hombre, la noche ignorante, el anhelo
De la mañana temprana, el misterio del comienzo
Una y otra vez.
Mientras que la historia no perdona.
In the naked bed, in Plato's cave
In the naked bed, in Plato's cave,
Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall,
Carpenters hammered under the shaded window,
Wind troubled the window curtains all night long,
A fleet of trucks strained uphill, grinding,
Their freights covered, as usual.
The ceiling lightened again, the slanting diagram
Slid slowly forth.
Hearing the milkman's clop,
his striving up the stair, the bottle's chink,
I rose from bed, lit a cigarette,
And walked to the window. The stony street
Displayed the stillness in which buildings stand,
The street-lamp's vigil and the horse's patience.
The winter sky's pure capital
Turned me back to bed with exhausted eyes.
Strangeness grew in the motionless air. The loose
Film grayed. Shaking wagons, hooves' waterfalls,
Sounded far off, increasing, louder and nearer.
A car coughed, starting. Morning softly
Melting the air, lifted the half-covered chair
From underseas, kindled the looking-glass,
Distinguished the dresser and the white wall.
The bird called tentatively, whistled, called,
Bubbled and whistled, so! Perplexed, still wet
With sleep, affectionate, hungry and cold. So, so,
O son of man, the ignorant night, the travail
Of early morning, the mystery of the beginning
Again and again,
while history is unforgiven.
Delmore Schwartz (8 December 1913 – 11 July 1966)
Summer Knowledge: New and Selected Poems
Añado el comentario que un lector anónimo ha dejado en esta entrada
Delmore Schwartz animó a Lou Reed a escribir y éste lo consideraba su maestro. Tiene un tema que me gusta mucho "My House" que está dedicado a él.
"My House"
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
My house is very beautiful at night
My friend and teacher occupies a spare room
He's dead -- at peace at last the Wandering Jew
Other friends has put stones on his grave
He was the first great man that I had ever met
Sylvia and I got out our Ouija Board
To dial a spirit -- across the room it soared
We were happy and amazes at what we saw
Blazing stood the proud and regal name Delmore
Delmore, I missed all your funny ways
I missed your jokes and the brilliant things you said
My Dedalus to your Bloom
Was such a perfect wit
And to find you in my house
Makes things perfect
I really got a lucky life
My writhing, my motorcycle and my wife
And to top it all off a spirit of pure poetry
Is living in this stone and wood house with me
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
3 comentarios:
Qué poema tan interesante sobre la alegoría de la caverna, el amanecer como el fuego que ilumina una nueva realidad más profunda.
Delmore Schwartz animó a Lou Reed a escribir y éste lo consideraba su maestro. Tiene un tema que me gusta mucho "My House" que está dedicado a él.
"My House"
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
My house is very beautiful at night
My friend and teacher occupies a spare room
He's dead -- at peace at last the Wandering Jew
Other friends has put stones on his grave
He was the first great man that I had ever met
Sylvia and I got out our Ouija Board
To dial a spirit -- across the room it soared
We were happy and amazes at what we saw
Blazing stood the proud and regal name Delmore
Delmore, I missed all your funny ways
I missed your jokes and the brilliant things you said
My Dedalus to your Bloom
Was such a perfect wit
And to find you in my house
Makes things perfect
I really got a lucky life
My writhing, my motorcycle and my wife
And to top it all off a spirit of pure poetry
Is living in this stone and wood house with me
The image of the poet's in the breeze
Canadian geese are flying above the trees
A mist is hanging gently on the lake
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
Our house is very beautiful at night
tambien ha ejercido influencia en otros musicos. Un ejemplo es la canción Acrobat de U2, dedicada a el...
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