I must clarify that the English translation of the poems, originally in Spanish and Japanese, have the terrible weakness that they are simple literal translations, lacking the necessary poetic reworking to adjust the metric, rhyme and cadence that they have in their original languages .
Despite that, the best possible work has been done within my limited capabilities and I hope that publicizing the translation of this work will be of benefit to all.
Fuente
English: |
Gardens under the rainThe stone is a flower, it is a tree,it is music among the flowers and trees. This red wood overturned in an agile arc on the water that laughs joyfully in the sands, this tiny silica on waving sidewalks, everything is chromatic life under the fine rain that fills the morning with impalpable threads. What do you look at while raising your slenderness that envies you the sago with its waist or the hieratic hai matsu? The tatami throbs under your little foot while you watch the rain decorating the air. You know the language of this mild landscape that is discovered docile, multiform, enchanted, while the water makes its round imperceptible. I guess the silence of your lost eyes under the sad pines like ancient bronzes, I watch them stop on the beech that longs the warm caress that expands in the south, the benign breath that the Kuro Sío distributes. The pines, oh the pines, like green metals that an unknown goldsmith carved centuries ago, they are the purest soul while the rain falls and incessantly sings his hymn without words. Matsu, you tell me, with an imperceptible voice, matsu, scots pine of the distant forests, one day you abandoned your life of rural hazards to stand here in the middle, among ash trees and maples, next to this bridge of perfect arches, among these white stones that are motionless flowers, next to these waters that in a minimum lake they are bewitched symbols of a millenary soul. Your gaze slips from the falling rain on this magical world, on that sad oak tree under this liquid May dawn. It is a garden that dreams with the beating heart of this island of Hondo. |
Spanish: |
Jardines bajo la lluviaLa piedra es flor, es árbol,es música entre las flores y los árboles. Esta madera roja volcada en ágil arco sobre el agua que ríe gozosa en las arenas, este menudo sílice en ondeantes veredas, todo es vida cromática bajo la lluvia fina que colma la mañana con impalpables hilos. ¿Qué miras mientras alzas tu esbeltez que te envidia el sagú con su talle o el hai matsu hierático? El tatami palpita bajo tu planta breve mientras miras la lluvia decorando los aires. Tú sabes el lenguaje de este paisaje leve que se descubre dócil, multiforme, encantado, mientras el agua hace su ronda imperceptible. Adivino el silencio de tus ojos perdidos bajo los pinos tristes como bronces antiguos, los miro detenerse sobre el haya que añora la cálida caricia que en el sur se dilata, el hálito benigno que el Kuro Sío reparte. Los pinos, oh los pinos, como verdes metales que un ignorado orfebre tallara hace centurias, son el alma más pura mientras la lluvia cae y canta incesantemente su himno sin palabras. Matsu, me dices, con voz imperceptible, matsu, pino silvestre de los lejanos bosques, un día abandonaste tu vida de rurales azares para alzarte aquí en medio, entre fresnos y arces, al lado de este puente de perfectas arcadas, entre estas piedras blancas que son flores inmóviles, al lado de estas aguas que en un mínimo lago son hechizados símbolos de un alma milenaria. Tu mirada resbala por la lluvia que cae sobre este mundo mágico, sobre esa encina triste bajo este liquido amanecer de mayo. Es un jardín que sueña con el corazón palpitante de esta isla de Hondo. |
Japanese: |
雨降る庭石は花であり，木であり，花々と木々の冏の音楽である。 砂の中で楽しくほほえむ水の上に 身軽な弧を描きかかっている，この赤い丸太, まがりくねった小逍のこの小さな砂利は， これらすべては極細の糸で朝をみたす 細雨の下の色彩版の活画なのだ。 素喑しい形のサゴやしや勿体ぶった逍松が お前をねたむ程にすらりとした姿をのばして お前は何を見てるのか？ お前が雨を眺めて空間を飾っている間に 畳は丈のひくい盆栽の下で脈うっている。 柔らかでいろんな形をして魅力的であり また水が人知れざる巡回をなしている このさっぱりした光说のあらわす言葉をお前は知っている。 私は昔の銅像のようにものさびしい松の下で お前のぼんやりとした目の物いわざる言葉を言いあてる， 南に広がるあたたかい愛撫，すなわち 黑潮が配分する穏和な微風を あこがれるぶなの木の上でお前の@が抒るのを私は見る。 ああ！松よ！何世紀も前に 名の知れない細工師が刻んだ緑色の金屈のように， 雨が降り，雨が言葉のない歌を 絶えず唱っている丨fi]こそ股も純粋な魂なのだ。 松よ，お前はかすかな声で私に言った， 松よ，はるかなる森の野生の松よ， いつか田畨の不幸な生活をはなれて ここ，とねりことかえでのまん中で 完全なアーチ型をしたこの撟のそばにそびえたち， 励かない花であるこれらの自い石の間にあって， 小さな池の中では千古の魂の魅された象徴である この水のそばにお前はそびえたっている。 五月のこの水分を含んだ夜明けのもと この不思議な世界の上，かなしいかしの木の上に 降ってくる雨の中をお前の視線がすりぬける。 これは夢みている庭なのだ，そしてここには 本土というこの岛の励悸している心臓がある。 |
Due to very different circumstances, I found myself with a book that I had saved, it is a somewhat peculiar poetry book in my library, since it is the bilingual edition in Spanish and Japanese of the Venezuelan poet Pascual Venegas Filardo. The work was published for the first time in 1961, but this one I have here is the 1968 edition, published in Kyoto by Gaikokugo Daigaku and consists of 76 pages, bound in hardcover.
The foreword to this book of poems was written by the Venezuelan Ambassador to Japan, J. M. Pérez Morales. In fact, what is most curious to me is that the book I have was from the embassy library ... don't go after me with the excommunication order for stealing books, I really didn't! I think the book was disincorporated or something similar, and then it passed through several hands until it came to me.
I have, to some extent, some affinity with some traits of Eastern cultures, there are several things that I like and in recent times I dusted off a few of them. I thought about checking if the book was available to share, but I only found fragments online, hence the idea of digitizing it and applying OCR to it to share it as it is in print, in both languages. Later on a suggestion from a reader, I decided to translate it into English, even if it is just to give an idea of what the beautiful poems in this book want to express.
Fuentes:
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