Un tiempo hollaba por alfombras ros

Un tiempo hollaba por alfombras rosas;
y nobles vates, de mentidas diosas
prodigábanme nombres;
mas yo, altanera, con orgullo vano,
cual águila real a vil gusano,
contemplaba a los hombres.

Mi pensamiento -en temerario vuelo-
ardiente osaba demandar al cielo
objeto a mis amores,
y si a la tierra con desdén volvía
triste mirada, mi soberbia impía
marchitaba sus flores.

Tal vez por un momento caprichosa
entre ellas revolé, cual mariposa,
sin fijarme en ninguna;
pues de místico bien siempre anhelante,
clamaba en vano, como tierno infante
quiere abrazar la luna.

Hoy, despeñada de la excelsa cumbre
do osé mirar del sol la ardiente lumbre
que fascinó mis ojos,
cual hoja seca al raudo torbellino,
cedo al poder del áspero destino...
¡Me entrego a sus antojos!

Cobarde corazón, que el nudo estrecho
gimiendo sufres, dime: ¿qué se ha hecho
tu presunción altiva?
¿Qué mágico poder, en tal bajeza
trocando ya tu indómita fiereza,
de libertad te priva?

¡Mísero esclavo de tirano dueño,
tu gloria fue cual mentiroso sueño,
que con las sombras huye!
Di, ¿qué se hicieron ilusiones tantas
de necia vanidad, débiles plantas
que el aquilón destruye?

En hora infausta a mi feliz reposo,
¿no dijiste, soberbio y orgulloso:
-¿Quién domará mi brío?
¡Con mi solo poder haré, si quiero,
mudar de rumbo al céfiro ligero
y arder al mármol frío!

¡Funesta ceguedad! ¡Delirio insano!
Te gritó la razón... Mas ¡cuán en vano
te advirtió tu locura!...
¡Tú mismo te forjaste la cadena,
que a servidumbre eterna te condena,
y a duelo y amargura!

Los lazos caprichosos que otros días
-por pasatiempo- a tu placer tejías,
fueron de seda y oro;
los que ahora rinden tu valor primero,
son eslabones de pesado acero,
templados con tu lloro.

¿Qué esperaste, ¡ay de ti!, de un pecho helado
de inmenso orgullo y presunción hinchado,
de víboras nutrido?
Tú -que anhelabas tan sublime objeto-
¿cómo al capricho de un mortal sujeto
te arrastras abatido?

¿Con qué velo tu amor cubrió mis ojos,
que por flores tomé duros abrojos,
y por oro la arcilla?...
¡Del torpe engaño mis rivales ríen,
y mis amantes, ay, tal vez se engríen
del yugo que me humilla!

¿Y tú lo sufres, corazón cobarde?
¿Y de tu servidumbre haciendo alarde
quieres ver en mi frente
el sello del amor que te devora?...
¡Ah! Velo, pues, y búrlese en buen hora
de mi baldón la gente.

¡Salga del pecho -requemando el labio-
el caro nombre de mi orgullo agravio,
de mi dolor sustento!...
¿Escrito no le ves en las estrellas
y en la luna apacible que con ellas
alumbra el firmamento?

¿No le oyes, de las auras al murmullo?
¿No le pronuncia -en gemidor arrullo-
la tórtola amorosa?
¿No resuena en los árboles, que el viento
halaga con pausado movimiento
en esa selva hojosa?
De aquella fuente entre las claras linfas,
¿no le articulan invisibles ninfas
con eco lisonjero?...
¿Por qué callar el nombre que te inflama,
si aún el silencio tiene voz, que aclama
ese nombre que quiero?...

Nombre que un alma lleva por despojo;
nombre que excita con placer enojo,
y con ira ternura;
nombre más dulce que el primer cariño
de joven madre al inocente niño,
copia de su hermosura;

y más amargo que el adiós postrero
que al suelo damos, donde el sol primero
alumbró nuestra vida,
nombre que halaga y halagando mata;
nombre que hiere -como sierpe ingrata-
al pecho que le anida.

¡No, no lo envíes, corazón, al labio!
¡Guarda tu mengua con silencio sabio!
¡Guarda, guarda tu mengua!
¡Callad también vosotras, auras, fuente,
trémulas hojas, tórtola doliente,
como calla mi lengua!

Resultaten (Engels) 1:

time for carpet roses trampled;
and noble poets, of mentidas goddesses
prodigábanme names;
But I, haughty, vain proudly,
which real eagle vile worm,
men watched.

my thoughts-in reckless flight-burning

Heaven dared sue the item to my loves,
and if the earth turned disdainfully
sad look, my pride unholy
withered flowers.

perhaps by a capricious moment
revolé including, a butterfly,
without noticing any;
fine as long as the mystical longing,
cried in vain, as tender infant
wants to embrace the moon.

today, the sublime despeñada
top dared do the hot sun looking light that fascinated my eyes
,
which swiftly dried leaf whirlwind,
I yield to the power of destiny rough ...
I surrender to your cravings!

cowardly heart, the tight knot
moaning suffer, tell me what has been your presumption haughty
?
what magical power, such baseness
bartering and your indomitable fierceness, freedom
deprives you?

miserable slave own tyrant,
thy glory was that dream liar,
that the shadows flee!
di, what expectations were raised so many
of foolish vanity, weak plants
to the north destroyed?

unfortunate in my happy hour rest,
did not you, arrogant and proud:
- who will tame my verve?
with my will power alone, if I want to change his course
the light zephyr marble
and burn the cold!

fatal blindness! Insane delusion!
Reason you cried ... but in vain
how you warned your madness! ...
yourself you pursue the chain eternal servitude
that condemns you, and grief and bitterness


whimsical ties other days
-by-at your leisure pastime tejías,
were of silk and gold,
who now pay your worth first,
are links of heavy steel, tempered with a cry
.

you wait , woe to you!, an ice chest
of immense pride and presumption bloated,
of vipers nurtured?
you-who longed so sublime object-
how the whims of a deadly shot subject
you crawl?

With what your love veil covered my eyes,
which took hard thistles flowers, gold
and clay? ...
's Awkward laugh my rivals deceit,
and my lovers, alas, perhaps conceited
of yoke that humbles me

: are you suffer, heart coward?
and your servitude flaunting
want to see in my forehead
the seal of love devours you? ...
ah! veil, then, and in good time
flout my people reproach.

Requemando chest exit lip
the first name of my pride tort,
of my pain support! ...
Written not see the stars and moon
gentle with them
illuminates the sky?

do not you hear, the murmur of auras?
do not you moaning pronounced in the dove coo-
love?
does not resonate in the trees, the wind

flatters with slow movement in that leafy jungle?
from that source between lymphs clear, articulate
not invisible nymphs echo
flattering? ...
why silent inflammation you name,
if even silence has a voice, cheering
that name I want?

name ... a soul takes a spoil
name with pleasure excites anger, anger
and tenderness;
name sweeter than first love
of innocent young mother to child,
copy of your beauty;

and more bitter than the last goodbye to the ground
give, where the sun first shone our life
,
flattered and flattering name that kills;
name that hurts-like-
the thankless serpent chest that nestles.

not , do not send, heart, lip!
keep your wanes with silent sage
, guardian your wanes!
hush ye also, auras, source,
trembling leaves, dove suffering,
as silent my tongue!

Resultaten (Engels) 2:

A time hollaba by carpet roses;
and noble poets, mentidas goddesses
prodigabanme names;
over i, haughty, with vain pride,
which golden eagle to vile worm,
looked at men.

my thought - in reckless flight-
ardent man after that durst sue the sky
object to my dears,
and if the earth with disdain returning
sad look, my pride unholy
marchitaba flowers.

Perhaps for a moment capricious
including revole, which butterfly,
without just suck in any;
because mystical well always hungering,
cried out in vain, as tender infante
wants to embrace the moon.

Today, despenada of the excelsa summit
oj sbi look of the sun's burning Firelight
that fascinated my eyes,
which dry leaf to the guardsman whirlwind,
i to the power of the rough destination ...
I handed them over to his cravings!

Cowardly heart, that the knot close
moaning Xufres, tell me: what has been done
your presumption haughty?
What magical power, in such baseness
already bartering your indomitable fierceness,
deprived of freedom you?

¡miserable slave owner of tyrant,
thy glory was which liar dream,
that with shadows flee!
Di, what made so many illusions
of foolish vanity, weak plants
that northward destroys?

In time wrenching to my happy rest,
does not thou saidst, superb and proud:
-Who domara my brio?
With my only power hare, if i want,
move of course to the Zephyr lightweight
and burn the cold marble!

¡disastrous blindness! ¡Delirium unhealthy!
you cry the reason ... More how in vain
te warned your madness!...
you yourself did you pursue the chain,
that eternal servitude to condemn you,
y to a duel and bitterness!

The ties capricious than other days
-by hobby - to your pleasure tejias,
were of silk and gold;
the that now pay your value first,
are links of heavy steel,
temperate with your wept.

What esperaste, woe to you!, a chest ice cream
of immense pride and presumption swollen,
of vipers nourished?
Your -that anhelabas so sublime object-
how at the whim of a deadly subject
te drag fold?

What with that veil your love covered my eyes,
that by flowers take hard thorns,
and gold clay?...
oh Of The clumsy deception my rivals laugh,
and my lovers, ay, perhaps
park right on the yoke that humiliates me!

what your what you suffer heart cowardly?
does and your servitude flaunting
you want to see in my forehead
the stamp of the love that devours you?...
Ah! Veil, therefore, and in good time burlese
my taint people.

Get out of the chest -requemando the lip-
the expensive name of my pride grievance,
my pain livelihood!...
does not writing you see him in the stars
and on the moon that quiet with them
lightens the firmament?

don't you hear, the auras to murmur?
don't you pronounced -in gemidor cooing-
the tortola loving?
does not echoes in the trees, the wind
flattered with paused movement in the jungle
leafy?
From that source between the clear linfas,
don't you articulate invisible nymphs
with echo ingratiating?...
why silence the name that you ignite,
if even silence has voice, which salutes
that name i want?...

name that a soul leads by dispossession;
name which excites anger with pleasure,
with anger and tenderness;
name sweeter than the first love
of young mother the innocent child,
copy of its beauty;

And more bitter than the goodbye he taketh
that we give to the ground, where the sun first
shone our life,
name that flatters and flattering kills;
name that offends -as thankless sierpe-
the breast which was nests.

No, I don't send it, the heart, the lip!
Save your wanes with silence wise!
Save, save your decline!
oh Yea you too, auras, source,
woman leaves, tortola suffering,
as calla my tongue!