Todos olvidan que Ícaro también voló.
Es lo mismo cuando el amor llega a su fin
o el matrimonio fracasa y la gente dice que
sabía
que aquello era un error, que todo el mundo
decía que jamás podría funcionar. Que ella tenía
suficiente edad para haberlo visto. Pero si algo
vale la pena de ser hecho, vale la pena hacerlo
mal.
Como estar ahí junto al mar aquel verano
en el otro lado de la isla mientras
el amor se apagaba en ella, y las estrellas
brillaban tanto esas noches que
cualquiera sabía que no iban a durar.
Todas las mañanas la veía dormida en mi cama
como una aparición, su delicadeza
la de un antílope erguido en la niebla del alba.
Todas las tardes la veía regresar
por el campo pedregoso después de nadar,
la luz del mar detrás de ella, y el cielo
inmenso
del otro lado. La escuchaba
mientras comíamos. ¿Cómo pueden decir
que el matrimonio fracasó? Como la gente que
volvía de Provenza (cuando era Provenza)
y decía que era linda pero que la comida era
grasosa.
Yo creo que Ícaro no estaba cayendo cuando
cayó,
sino sólo llegando al final de su triunfo.
Jack Gilbert, Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania, Estados Unidos, 1925-2012
Versión © Gerardo
Gambolini
imagen: s/d
Failing and Flying
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.
Cuando al Rey de
Siam le disgustaba un cortesano
le obsequiaba un
hermoso elefante blanco.
La fantástica bestia exigía tal ritual
que cuidarla correctamente
significaba la ruina.
Pero cuidarla incorrectamente
era peor.
Parece que el regalo
no podía rechazarse.
Jack Gilbert, Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania, Estados Unidos, 1925-2012
Versión © Gerardo
Gambolini
When the King of Siam disliked a courtier,
he gave him a beautiful white elephant.
The miracle beast deserved such ritual
that to care for him properly meant ruin.
Yet to care for him improperly was worse.
It appears the gift could not be refused.
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