Aquí llegan, Niño, las cinco vocales,
sencillas y claras como unos pañales.
De tanto mirarte, de tanto admirar,
con la boca abierta se queda la A.
Para que le vuelvas tus ojos, la E
desde su ventana te tira un clavel.
Porque quiere siempre mirar hacia Tí,
su punto redondo te entrega la I.
Nunca como ahora le dolió a la O
que su forma sea para decir no.
De rodillas pide llenar de tu luz
su pequeño cuenco vacío la U.
Escucha, Cordero; las cinco vocales
te ofrecen los niños su voz en pañales.
Carol of the five vowels
They’re coming, Child Jesus, right now, the five vowels,
as simple and faultless and fresh as clean towels.
Admiring, abased, awed by You, I may say,
A’s gaping, blank-faced, and stays always that way.
E’s presents she’ll send You: she’s sweet, yes she’s tender.
They’ll speed from her window, deep red: she’s the sender.
I’s thinking is right, since this gifting’s his wish:
fixing You in his sight, gives his pip, in a dish.
Poor O now knows sorrow unknown long ago:
her form’s what folk borrow whose motto is No.
U could not be humbler: U humbly trusts You
will illumine his tumbler *ut luceas Tu*.
So, Lamb of God, listen: their gift’s the five vowels:
sweet voices of children, as fresh as clean towels.
By a nephew of Vincente Aleixandre. Young Spanish children sing a ‘Carol of the Five Vowels’ which is very much simpler.
How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the waggly tail
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale.
I must take a trip to California
And leave my poor sweetheart alone
If he has a dog, he won't be lonesome
And the doggie will have a good home.
How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the waggly tail
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale.
I read in the papers there are robbers
With flashlights that shine in the dark
My love needs a doggie to protect him
And scare them away with one bark.
I don't want a bunny or a kitty
I don't want a parrot that talks
I don't want a bowl of little fishies
He can't take a goldfish for a walk.
How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the waggly tail
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale.
qout valet stipes canis in fenestra?
quot valet stipes canis in fenestra?
vibrat, heus! caudam, quatit iste motam:
quot valet stipes? mihi fit cupido
venditionis.
urbs petenda abstat procul Angelorum:
mox procum nolens miserum relinquam.
cui comes gratus canis adstet, ipse
sospes et hospes.
fertur, ut lexi, facibus latrones
lucidis noctu peragrare pravos;
sit proco custos canis, aptus hostem
pellere latrans.
displicent felesque cuniculique et
piscium in sino pecus et loquaces
psittaci. non is comes ambulanti,
flave Carassi!
quot valet stipes canis in fenestra?
vibrat, heus! caudam, quatit iste motam:
quot valet stipes? mihi fit cupido
venditionis.
Odeur des pluies de mon enfance
Derniers soleils de la saison!
A sept ans comme il faisait bon,
Après d’ennuyeuses vacances,
Se retrouver dans sa maison!
La vieille classe de mon père,
Pleine de guêpes écrasées,
Sentait l’encre, le bois, la craie
Et ces merveilleuses poussières
Amassées par tout un été.
O temps charmant des brumes douces,
Des gibiers, des longs vols d’oiseaux,
Le vent souffle sous le préau,
Mais je tiens entre paume et pouce
Une rouge pomme à couteau.
Autumn
My childhood: fragrances of rain,
The season’s final sunny days,
When I was seven years of age
After the boring holidays,
How pleasant to be home again!
Old schoolroom of my dear Papa,
The horde of wasps unkindly killed,
The ink and chalk and wood I smelled,
The wondrous dust, the plethora
That all the summer months had piled…
O charming time of gentle mist,
Long flights of birds that hunters felled,
Wind in the courtyard roof that hissed,
Yet in my palm and thumb I held
A bright red apple to be sliced!
I saw a jolly hunter
With a jolly gun
Walking in the country
In the jolly sun.
In the jolly meadow
Sat a jolly hare.
Saw the jolly hunter.
Took jolly care.
Hunter jolly eager -
Sight of jolly prey.
Forgot gun pointing
Wrong jolly way.
Jolly hunter jolly head
Over heels gone.
Jolly old safety catch
Not jolly on.
Bang went the jolly gun.
Hunter jolly dead.
Jolly hare got clean away.
Jolly good, I said.
venatorem hilarem vidi
venatorem hilarem vidi, hilarissima
armatum pharetra, rus hilare ingredi;
fundit sol hilaris lucem. hilarissimus
in prato lepus est nempe hilarissimo:
venatorem hilarem conspicit anxius.
o quam res hilaris! praedam hilarissimus
urgens ille vagorum immemor arcuum
delapsus subita clade hilarissima,
cui tutela hilari nulla periculo.
arcus prosiluit vis hilarissimi;
venator periit morte hilarissima;
evasit leporis forma hilarissimi;
delectans hilari carmine gaudeo.
I saw a jolly hunter
With a jolly gun
Walking in the country
In the jolly sun.
In the jolly meadow
Sat a jolly hare.
Saw the jolly hunter.
Took jolly care.
Hunter jolly eager -
Sight of jolly prey.
Forgot gun pointing
Wrong jolly way.
Jolly hunter jolly head
Over heels gone.
Jolly old safety catch
Not jolly on.
Bang went the jolly gun.
Hunter jolly dead.
Jolly hare got clean away.
Jolly good, I said.
I saw a Jolly Huntsman
I saw a jolly huntsman
With a jolly gun,
Savouring a country
Walk in jolly sun.
On a jolly grassy knoll
Jolly rabbit sat,
Saw your jolly huntsman,
Didn't fancy that.
Huntsman jolly champing,
Marksmanship in play,
Forgot gun was pointing
Wrong jolly way.
Huntsman topsy-turvy,
Hyst'ron-protty-ron,
Jolly ward-lock guard-catch
Not jolly on.
Bang, jolly gunshot!
Huntsman jolly laid
Out for good. Fur got away.
Jolly good, I said.
Es sind noch immer
die gleichen Wellen,
die gleichen Muscheln,
was immer ich find.
Es sind noch immer
die gleichen Dünen,
die Gräser, die Halme
und auch der Wind.
Es ist noch immer
der Zug in den Wolken.
Ein Hauch weht wieder
durch mein Haar.
Es sind noch immer
die gleichen Brücken
am Himmelsbogen
wie damals es war.
A Year Later
Still the same waves
And still the same mussels
As ever I find.
Still the same dunes
And grasses and rushes
And also the wind.
Still the clouds pass.
Again a breeze ruffles,
Blows over my hair.
Still the same bridges
In high-vaulted heaven
As ever were there.
Nothing else known of this poet. Painting by Hermann Seeger.
La partícula cósmica que navega en mi sangre
Es un mundo infinito de fuerzas siderales.
Vino a mí tras un largo camino de milenios
Cuando, tal vez, fui arena para los pies del aire.
Luego fui la madera. raíz desesperada.
Hundida en el silencio de un desierto sin agua.
Después fui caracol quién sabe dónde.
Y los mares me dieron su primera palabra.
Después la forma humana desplegó sobre el mundo
La universal bandera del músculo y la lágrima.
Y creció la blasfemia sobre la vieja tierra.
Y el azafrán, y el tilo, la copla y la plegaria.
Entonces vine a américa para nacer en hombre.
Y en mí junté la pampa, la selva y la montaña.
Si un abuelo llanero galopó hasta mi cuna,
Otro me dijo historias en su flauta de caña.
Yo no estudio las cosas ni pretendo entenderlas.
Las reconozco, es cierto, pues antes viví en ellas.
Converso con las hojas en medio de los montes
Y me dan sus mensajes las raíces secretas.
Time of Man
The cosmic particle voyaging in my blood
Is an infinite world of astral forces.
It reached me by a long trail of millennia
When perhaps I was sand for the air’s footsteps.
Next I was timber, a despairing root
Sunk in the silence of a waterless desert.
Later I was a snail, who knows where,
And the seas gave me their primal word.
Later the human form unfurled over the planet
The universal banner of muscle and tears.
And blasphemy flourished on the ancient earth.
And saffron and the linden, ballads and prayer.
Then I came to America to be born a man.
And in myself I joined pampas, forest and mountain.
If a plainsman grandfather galloped to my cradle,
Another told me tales on his bamboo flute.
I do not study things nor claim to understand them.
I recognise them, certainly, for I lived in them earlier.
I converse with the leaves up in the mountains
And the secret roots give me their messages.
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider,
"That valley is fatal where furnaces burn,
Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden,
That gap is the grave where the tall return."
"O do you imagine," said fearer to farer,
"That dusk will delay on your path to the pass,
Your diligent looking discover the lacking,
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?"
"O what was that bird," said horror to hearer,
"Did you see that shape in the twisted trees?
Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly,
The spot on your skin is a shocking disease."
"Out of this house"---said rider to reader,
"Yours never will"---said farer to fearer
"They're looking for you"---said hearer to horror,
As he left them there, as he left them there.
Auden ipse scripsi
sic equiti loquitur lector: ‘quo vadere velles?
~~vallis enim vivis ignibus illa necat.
est fimus, infesti qua te furiabit odores;
~~in spatio tumulus, qua redit altus, hiat.’
sic pavidus: ‘peregrine’ inquit ‘cito faucibus instans!
~~num tentant tenebrae mox moderare moras?
num vigil invenies vacui vestigia visu?
~~num, si stant lapides, mulserit herba pedes?’
‘qualis avis fuit, auditor?’ modo dixerat horror:
~~‘arboribus tortis nonne patebat avis?
te sequitur pede pernici furtiva figura;
~~in cute gutta tua desidet, atra lues.’
lectori sed eques: ‘proficiscere, tecta relinquas.’
~~‘nec tibi pes...’ pavido sic peregrinus ait.
auditor: ‘peteris!’ petiturque, ut dixerat, horror.
~~ille ibi liquit eos, ille ibi liquit eos.
Auden’s voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFQjnqV_byA
Ned Rorem’s music: https://www.newworldrecords.org/products/ned-rorem-evidence-of-things-not-seen
See also my lipogram.
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider,
"That valley is fatal where furnaces burn,
Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden,
That gap is the grave where the tall return."
"O do you imagine," said fearer to farer,
"That dusk will delay on your path to the pass,
Your diligent looking discover the lacking,
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?"
"O what was that bird," said horror to hearer,
"Did you see that shape in the twisted trees?
Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly,
The spot on your skin is a shocking disease."
"Out of this house"---said rider to reader,
"Yours never will"---said farer to fearer
"They're looking for you"---said hearer to horror,
As he left them there, as he left them there.
‘What spot do you aim at?’ by Wystan Hugh
‘What spot do you aim at?’ said bookworm to backload:
That low strip is fatal as kilns hotly burn,
It’s got a big dunghill, its odour’s a lungful,
That gap is a tomb from which lofty folk turn.’
‘O is it your notion’ said pallid to payload,
‘That dusk will hold back on your path to yon pass,
Your small-tooth-comb looking track down what is lacking,
Your footfall go groping from gabbro to grass?’
‘O what was that bird’ said to auditor awful,
‘Did you spot that form amid twigs twisting thick?
At your back swiftly that thing’s coming softly,
That spot on your skin dubs you horribly sick.’
‘Out of this building’ said backload to bookworm,
‘Yours will not do it’ said payload to pallid,
‘You got you a manhunt,’ said auditor, 'awful.'
Your man didn’t stay, your man didn’t stay.
Vous ne saurez jamais que votre âme voyage
Comme au fond de mon cœur un doux cœur adopté ;
Et que rien, ni le temps, d’autres amours, ni l’âge,
N’empêcheront jamais que vous ayez été.
Que la beauté du monde a pris votre visage,
Vit de votre douceur, luit de votre clarté,
Et que ce lac pensif au fond du paysage
Me redit seulement votre sérénité.
Vous ne saurez jamais que j’emporte votre âme
Comme une lampe d’or qui m’éclaire en marchant ;
Qu’un peu de votre voix a passé dans mon chant.
Doux flambeau, vos rayons, doux brasier, votre flamme,
M’instruisent des sentiers que vous avez suivis,
Et vous vivez un peu puisque je vous survis.
You'll Never Know
You'll never know your soul is one that roves
Like a dear heart that mine guards deep within;
Nothing, not time of age, nor other loves,
Will ever change the fact that you have been.
The beauty of the world took on your face,
Lives in your sweetness, glitters in your day;
The pond that ponders in its rural place
Just echoes to me your serenity.
You'll never know I bear your soul along
Like a gold lamp, by which my path is lit.
Shards of your voice have passed into my song.
Sweet brazier, your flame, sweet flare, your rays
Light where you walked, instruct me in your ways.
Since I live on, you live a little, yet.
