lunes, 16 de octubre de 2006

Algo de Brian Patten

Sometimes It Happens

And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.

And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.

And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.

And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.

So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.

una brizna de yerba

Pides un poema
Y te ofrezco una brizna de hierba.
Dices que no es bastante.
Tú pides un poema.

Yo digo que esta brizna de hierba lo será.
Se ha vestido de escarcha,
Es más inmediata
Que cualquier imagen que se me ocurra.

Dices que no es un poema,
que es una brizna de hierba y la hierba
no es lo suficientemente buena.
Te ofrezco una brizna de hierba.

Estas indignada.
Dices que es demasiado fácil ofrecer hierba.
Es absurdo.
Cualquiera puede ofrecer una brizna de hierba.

Tu pides un poema.
Y así, yo te escribo una tragedia
Sobre cómo una brizna de hierba
Se vuelve más y más difícil de ofrecer,

Y sobre cómo a medida que envejezcas
Una brizna de hierba
Se vuelve más difícil de aceptar.

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