Friday, October 14, 2016

 Frente al Mar - Alfonsina Storni
Alfonsina Storni


Tú Me Quieres Blanca - Alfonsina Storni (the poem in English below)

Tú me quieres alba,

Me quieres de espumas,

Me quieres de nácar.

Que sea azucena

Sobre todas, casta.

De perfume tenue.

Corola cerrada

Ni un rayo de luna

Filtrado me haya.

Ni una margarita

Se diga mi hermana.

Tú me quieres nívea,

Tú me quieres blanca,

Tú me quieres alba.

Tú que hubiste todas

Las copas a mano,

De frutos y mieles

Los labios morados.

Tú que en el banquete

Cubierto de pámpanos

Dejaste las carnes

Festejando a Baco.

Tú que en los jardines

Negros del Engaño

Vestido de rojo

Corriste al Estrago.

Tú que el esqueleto

Conservas intacto

No sé todavía

Por cuáles milagros,

Me pretendes blanca

(Dios te lo perdone),

Me pretendes casta

(Dios te lo perdone),

¡Me pretendes alba!

Huye hacia los bosques,

Vete a la montaña;

Límpiate la boca;

Vive en las cabañas;

Toca con las manos

La tierra mojada;

Alimenta el cuerpo

Con raíz amarga;

Bebe de las rocas;

Duerme sobre escarcha;

Renueva tejidos

Con salitre y agua;

Habla con los pájaros

Y lévate al alba.

Y cuando las carnes

Te sean tornadas,

Y cuando hayas puesto

En ellas el alma

Que por las alcobas

Se quedó enredada,

Entonces, buen hombre,

Preténdeme blanca,

Preténdeme nívea,

Preténdeme casta.

 

 

You Want Me Pale

You want me pale,
Made of sea foam,
A mother of pearl.
Made of white lily,
Untouched among the others.
Made of thinning perfume.
Petals sealed.

Not touched by moonbeams,
Not called 'sister' by the daisies.
You want me like snow,
You want me white,
You want me pale.

You have had all
The cups in your hands,
Flowing fruit and honey,
Staining your lips dark.
You have been in the banquet
Laced with grapevines,
Relinquishing your meat,
Reveling in Bacchus.
You have been in the gardens,
Black with deception,
Wearing red and
Running into ruin.

You have kept your
Skeleton intact, and by
Miracles I do not know,
Still expect me to be white
(God forgive you for it),
Still expect me to be spotless
(God forgive you for it),
Still expect me to be pale.

So flee into the woods,
Run into the mountains;
Clean your mouth;
Live in a cottage;
Touch the damp earth
With your hands;
Nourish your body with
The bitter root;
Drink, like Moses,
From the rocks;
Sleep upon the frost;
Rejuvenate your flesh
With saltpetre and water;
Speak with the birds,
Rise with the sun.
And when your body
Has returned to you,
When it's become entangled
In the bedroom of your soul,
Only then, good man,
Can you expect me to be pale,
Expect me to be snow,
Expect me to be untouched.

Translated from the Spanish by Sarah Fletcher