José Manuel Marroquín, retrato.
·
Ahora
que los ladros perran,
ahora
que los cantos gallan,
ahora
que albando la toca
las
altas suenas campanan;
y
que los rebuznos burran,
y
que los gorjeos pájaran
y
que los silbos serenan
y
que los gruños marranan
y
que la aurorada rosa
los
extensos doros campa,
perlando
líquidas viertas
cual
yo lágrimo derramas
y
friando de tirito
si
bien el abrasa almada,
vengo
a suspirar mis lanzos
ventano
de tus debajas.
Tú
en tanto duerma tranquiles
en
tu rega camalada
ingratándote
así burla
de
las amas del que te ansia.
¡Oh,
ventánate a tu asoma!
¡Persiane
un poco la abra
y
suspire los recibos
que
esta pobra exhale alma!
Ven,
endecha las escuchas
en
que mi exhala se alma
que
un milicio de musicas
me
flauta con su compaña,
en
tinieblo de las medias
de
esta madruga oscurada.
Ven
y haz miradar tus brillas
a
fin de angustiar mis calmas.
Esas
tus arcas son cejos
con
que flechando disparas
Cupido
peche mi hiero
y
ante tus postras me planta.
Tus
estrellos son dos ojas,
tus
rosos son como labias,
tus
perles son como dientas,
tu
palme como una talla,
tu
cisne como el de un cuello,
un
garganto tu alabastra,
tus
tornos hechos a brazo,
tu
reinar como el de un anda.
Y
por eso horo a estas vengas
a
rejar junto a tus cantas
¡y
a suspirar mis exhalos
ventano
de tus debajas!
(Translation)
Now
that the barks are doging,
now
that the sings are roosting,
now
that the come is dawning
the
rings in the heights are belling;
and
that the brays are donkeying,
and
that the trills are birding
and
that the whistle watchmans
and
that the grunts are piging
and
that the break of daypink
is
fielding the wide gilds,
while
pearling liquid spills
just
like I'm tearing sheds,
also
colding of shiver
even
if burn is souling,
I
come and my throws I sigh
here
windowneath your unders.
Meanwhile
you sleeply calm
and
stay in your beded flatter,
thanking
fun, you, makeless,
of
the loving of your yearner.
Oh,
look window your out!
Open
a blind your bit,
sigh
all of my receivings
a
miserable breathe is souling!
Come
and dirge the heares
in
which my exhale is souled,
that
a milician musitia
flutes
me here on accompany
in
the darkle of the middness
of
this obscuring being morned.
Come
and make look your shine
only
to anguish my calm.
These
eyebows are your brows
with
which by narrowing shoots
Cupid
is hearting my hurt
and
I solate by your postres.
A
pair of eyes are your stars,
the
lips that are like your roses,
the
teeth that are like your pearls,
your
palm that is like a waist,
your
swan that is like a neck,
could
be alabasneck your ter,
your
lathes that were made by arms,
your
queen like the one of a walk.
Then
at this come I time
to
grille beside your sing:
to
breathe my exhales
here
windowneath your unders!
Translation:
Alfredo Salvador C. García.
November
17th, 2014. Mexico City.
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