26 February 2010

Nameless Spirit by Gustavo Adolfo Becquer

Nameless spirit,
indefinable essance,
I live with the formless
life of idea.

I swim in the void,
I quiver in the bonfire of teh sun,
I palpitate among the shadows
and I float with the mists.

I am the gold braid
of the distant star;
I am the lukewarm, serene light
of the high moon.

I am the burning cloud
that undulates in the west:
I am the luminous wake
of the wandering star.

I am snow on the peaks,
I am fire on the sands,
a blue wave on the seas,
and foam on the shores.

I am a note in the lute,
perfume in the violet,
a fleeting flam in the tombs,
and ivy in the ruins.

I deafen in the torrent,
and I hiss in the lightning,
and I blind in the flash,
and I roar in the storm.

I laugh in the hills,
I whisper in the tall grass,
I sigh in the pure wave,
and I weep in the dead leaf.

I undulate with the atomts
of the smoke that rises,
and slowly goes up to the sky
in an immense spiral.

I, on the gilded threads
that the insects hang,
swing between the trees
in teh fiery noonday heat.

I run after the nymphs
who in the cool stream
of the crystalline brook
frolic naked.

I, in forests of corals
carpeted by white pearls,
pursue in the ocean
the swift naiads.

I, in the hollow caverns
where the sun never penetrates,
mingling with the gnomes
observe their riches.

I look for the now obliterated
traces of the centuries,
and I know of those empires
of which not even the name is left.

I follow in rapid giddiness
the worlds that revolve,
and my pupil embraces
the whole of creation.

I know of those regions
both where no noise reaches,
and where formless stars
wait for the breath of life.

I am the bridge that crosses
over the abyss,
I am the unknown ladder
that joins Heaven to the Earth.

I am the invisible
ring that fastens
the world of form
to the world of idea.

I, in short, am the spirit,
unfamiliar essence,
mysterious perfume,
of which the poet is the vessel.

Translated by Bruce Phenix.

No comments:

Post a Comment