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: Japan-Guide - Sofukuji Temple
English: |
Nagasaki yearningThe afternoon tangled in your ebony hair.The breeze that ran through the pines was subtle and drew scents of limpid accents. The afternoon was a single sensation of silences where only you reigned pensively. Nagasaki is there on its blue bay, her hills don't speak but her mute voice how much it tells the traveler that she knows her tragedy. Behind that temple with a high Christian tower, under those gray roofs where a blond man loved lyrical girl with dragonfly soul; in front of those lions that guard the temple of Sofukii, under that monument to a peace won by death the souls throb of the children who did not see the dawn. There are mothers drowned at the stake of the blazing fire; with outstretched hands towards the son made ashes by maddened science. What does it matter that at night you have a show in big cities Madame Butterfly tell your melodious story born before this sea smooth as a pearl, if here in these virgin green hills, if here in front of these waters of innocent reflections, if here among these people crowned with laughter. if here between these light steps like their owners, the memory is alive and the war grips in her memory: the fire conquering everything refractory, the atom dislocated breaking the tissues, the explosion consummating the greatest of crimes. Nagasaki I watch you as the afternoon runs away and the clouds sow pink pearls on the waters. Nagasaki I look at you as you were how much all this that destroys, all this that annihilates, has not yet been born. I imagine you in the peace of the old samurai, on the pale face of the noble maiden dreaming of the impossible love of an eta. And while I dream at the foot of the hills It is the night that makes your unruly hair blacker when the rain starts its steps on the grass. |
Spanish: |
Nagasaki AñoraLa tarde se enredaba en tus cabellos de ébano.Era sutil la brisa que corría entre los pinos y dibujaba aromas de límpidos acentos. La tarde era una sola sensación de silencios donde tan sólo tú reinabas pensativa. Nagasaki está allí sobre su azul bahía, sus colinas no hablan pero su muda voz cuánto dice al viajero que sabe su tragedia. Tras ese templo de alta torre cristiana, bajo esos techos grises donde un hombre rubio amó a lírica niña de alma de libélula; frente a esos leones que celan el templo de Sofukii, bajo ese monumento a una paz ganada con la muerte laten las almas de los niños que no vieron la aurora. Están allí las madres ahogadas en la hoguera del fuego fulgurante; con las manos tendidas hacia el hijo hecho cenizas por la ciencia enloquecida. Que importa que en las noches tie gala en grandes urbes Madame Butterfly diga su historia melodiosa nacida ante este mar terso como una perla, si aquí en estas colinas de verdes virginales, si aquí frente a estas aguas de inocentes reflejos, si aquí entre estas gentes coronadas de risas. si aquí entre estos pasos leves como sus dueñas, la memoria esta viva y la guerra atenaza en su recuerdo: el fuego venciendo todo lo refractario, el átomo dislocado trizando los tejidos, la explosión consumando el mayor de los crímenes. Nagasaki te miro mientras la tarde huye y los celajes siembran rosados nácares sobre las aguas. Nagasaki te miro tal como eras cuanto todo esto que destruye, todo esto que aniquila, aun no habla nacido. Te imagino en la paz del viejo samurai, en el pálido rostro de la noble doncella soñando en el amor imposible de un eta. Y mientras sueflo al pie de las colinas es la noche la que hace mds negros tus rebeldes cabellos cuando la lluvia inicia sus pasos en la hierba. |
Japanese: |
長崎の慕情夕方がお前の热い髮の毛にからみ合っていた。松林の中を吹きぬける微風はかすかであって さわやかな調子をもった®気を引張っていった。 その夕べは静寂の感覚そのものだった， その場をお前がただ一人思いに沈んで支配していた。 長崎はW•い入江の向うに’ある, 丘は語らないが声なき声は その悲劇を知る旅人に何と多くのことを語ることよ。 キリスト教の高い塔のその教会の後， 灰色のM根の下，そこでは金髮の贝がトンボの 心をもった抒衍的な乙女を愛したんだが， 崇福寺を見守る泊犬の前で， 死をもって得た平和の記念碑の下で， 夜明けを見なかった この子供违の盤魂が吠えている。 激しい火の焰の中で生命の絶えた母は そこにいるのだ； 狂った科学によって灰と化した手を そのようにされた子供の方にさしむけて。 もしここ，Z<女のような緑のfhの中で， 4しここ，あどけなく映えている水の前で， もしここ，微笑に[111まれるこれらの人々の中で， 4しここ，朱亡人の輕ろやかな足どりの丨丨1丨に， 思い出がまだ生きていて 戦中が思い出を茜しめているとするならば, 大都会の華肫な夜にマダム.バタフライが 瑰珠のようになめらかなこの海の前で生れた 旋你的な物語を語るとは 何と肺航のあることだろう。 火は燃えないすべてのものを破收し， 狂った职子が織物をずたずたにし， 煤発が犯罪の中の般大のものをなしとげたのだ。 私は汝，丧崎を腴視する，その間に夕方p時間が 過ぎ去り夕焼Sが水而の上にバラ色の螺鈿を丨仿き收らす。 破壞し，抒殺しにするこのものが いまだ生れ出ていなかった顷汝，及崎が こうであったろうと，じっと见つめる。 老いたる武士の安らぎの中に 部落民の許されぬ恋の中で夢みる 高貴なこ女の苻由な®の中に 私はお前を想像するのだ。 私が丘のふもとで要みるあいだに 雨が草とたわむれ始める頃 お前のすかしにくい髮の毛を更に黑くするのが夜なのだ。 |
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:
Mucho más que un navegador. Disfruta de una navegación privada, segura y rápida con Brave