La estrella de Babilonia (Spanish Edition)

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Y en el fragor de mi renuncia, un hilo de infinito sangrara. Yo no debo estar tan bien; avanza, avanza el pie! I am feeling great.

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It is raining; and that is a cruel restriction. Move it, move that foot. How long before those hands pretending to be a thicket raise the curtain? You see? The others, how comfortable, what effigies. Closer, closer! It is raining.

And later today another ship will pass loaded with crepe; it will be like a nipple black and deformed torn out of a sphinxine Illusion. You are at the edge and the ship may haul you out to sea. Ah, unmoving, symbolic curtains. My applause is a festival of black roses: you can have my seat! And in the clamor of my renunciation, a thread of infinity will bleed. I must not be feeling so great; move it, move that foot!

Seria todo rituario, pero menos dulce. Y si tu me quisieras? La sombra sufriria justos fracasos en tus nirias monjas. Culebrean latigazos, cuando el can ama a su dueno? Estas enfermo. Tengo suerio! Bajo la alameda vesperal se quiebra un fragor de rosa. Ya retona la selva en mi cristal!

It would be all rituary, but not as sweet. And if you loved me? The shadow would suffer a deserved defeat by your little nuns. Do whiplashes serpentize, when the dog loves its master? Go away I need to sleep! Under the vesperal poplar grove the blare of roses is stifled.

Already the forest is luxuriating in my windowpane! En esta noche rara que tanto me has mirado, la Muerte ha estado alegre y ha cantado en su hueso. En esta noche de Setiembre se ha oficiado mi segunda caida y el mas humano beso. Amada, moriremos los dos juntos, muy juntos; se ira secando a pausas nuestra excelsa amargura; y habran tocado a sombra nuestros labios difuntos.

Y ya no habra reproches en tus ojos benditos; ni volvere a ofenderte. Y en una sepultura los dos nos dormiremos, como dos hermanitos. On this strange night when you looked at me so, Death was happy and sang in his bone. On this September night my second fall and the most human kiss have been presided over. My love, we two will die together, close together; our sublime bitterness will slowly dry up; and our defunct lips will have touched in shadow.


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There will be no more reproach in your holy eyes; nor will I offend you ever again. In one grave we two will sleep, as two siblings. Y me dan pena las manitas sumisas de tus tardes. Llegas devotamente; llegas viejo; y ya no encontraras en mi alma a nadie. Y pasaras por mis balcones con gran rosario de amatistas y oros, como un obispo triste que llegara de lejos a buscar y bendecir los rotos aros de unos muertos novios.

Verano, ya me voy. Alla, en Setiembre tengo una rosa que te encargo mucho; la regaras de agua bendita todos los dias de pecado y de sepulcro.


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Si a fuerza de llorar el mausoleo, con luz de fe su marmol aletea, levanta en alto tu responso, y pide a Dios que siga para siempre muerta. To do ha de ser ya tarde; y tu no encontraras en mi alma a nadie. Ya no llores, Verano! En aquel surco muere una rosa que renace mucho.

The submissive little hands of your evenings pain me. You arrive devoutly; you arrive old; and now you will not find anyone in my soul. And you will pass by my balconies with a great rosary of amethyst and gold, like a sad bishop who would come from afar to seek and to bless the broken rings of some dead sweethearts.

Summer, I am leaving now.

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Over there, in September I have a rose that I will entrust to you completely; you will sprinkle it with holy water all the days of sin and of tomb. If from crying the mausoleum, in the light of faith, should flutter its marble wings, raise on high your response, and pray to God that such light remains dead forever.

It is way too late now; you will not find anyone in my soul. Cry no more, Summer! In that furrow a rose dies to be reborn evermore.

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Yo no se lo demas; y para eso, no debiste ser buena, no debiste. Aquella noche sollozaste al verme hermetico y tirano, enfermo y triste. Yo no se lo demas. Solo esa noche de Setiembre dulce, tuve a tus ojos de Magdala, toda la distancia de Dios. Y tambien fue una tarde de Setiembre cuando sembre en tus brasas, desde un auto, los charcos de esta noche de diciembre. You sobbed that night upon finding me hermetic and tyrannical, ill and sad. I do not know about the rest.

Solely on that sweet September night did I possess in your Magdalene eyes, all the distance of God. Likewise it was a September evening when I sowed in your embers, as decreed, the puddles of this December night. Esta tarde es dulce. Por que no ha de ser? Viste gracia y pena; viste de mujer.

Esta tarde en Lima llueve. Y pondra el silencio de su dignidad con oleos quemantes el punto final. Por eso esta tarde, como nunca, voy con este buho, con este corazon. Y otras pasan; y viendome tan triste, toman un poquito de ti en la abrupta arruga de mi hondo dolor.

Esta tarde llueve, llueve mucho. This afternoon is sweet. Why should it not be? Dressed in grace and pain; dressed like a woman. This afternoon in Lima it is raining. So this afternoon, as never before, I am with this owl, with this heart. Other women go by; and seeing me so sad, they take on a bit of you in the abrupt wrinkle of my deep remorse. This afternoon it is raining, raining hard.


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And I have no desire to live, my heart! Estabas tras los cristales humano y triste de atardecer; y cual lloraba tus funerales esa mujer! Sus ojos eran el jueves santo, dos negro s granos de amarga luz! Con duras gotas de sangre y llanto clavo tu cruz! Desde que tu partiste, Senor, no ha ido nunca al Jordan, en rojas aguas supiel desviste, y al vil judio le vende pan!

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You were behind the window human and sad as dusk approached; and how that woman was bewailing your funeral! Her eyes were Holy Thursday, two black grains of embittered light! With stony drops of blood and tears she nailed your cross! Impious woman! Since you departed, Lord, she has never returned to the Jordan, in red waters she exposes her flesh, and to the vile Jew she sells bread!

Un silbo agudo del guardia la atraviesa, cual vibrante alfiler.

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