Soneto

Cosas, Celalba mía, he visto extrañas:
cascarse nubes, desbocarse vientos,
altas torres besar sus fundamentos,
y vomitar la tierra sus entrañas;

duras puentes romper, cual tiernas cañas,
arroyos prodigiosos, ríos violentos,
mal vadeados de los pensamientos,
y enfrenados peor de las montañas;

los días de Noé, gentes subidas
en los más altos pinos levantados,
en las robustas hayas más crecidas.

Pastores, perros, chozas y ganados
sobre las aguas vi, sin forma y vidas,
y nada temí más que mis cuidados.



Sonnet

Things, Celalba mine, have I seen strange:
the sundering of clouds, winds swear and shout,
high towers their foundations bend to kiss,
the earth its very bowels vomit out;

sturdy bridges break, like tender reeds,
prodigious streams, fierce rivers swelled by rain,
poorly traversed by ingenuity,
by mountains even worse their surge restrained;

the days of Noah, people perched atop
the tallest pine trees that approach the sky,
the strong beech trees in their enormity.

Shepherds, dogs, herd animals and huts
I saw afloat, with neither form nor life,
and I feared nothing but my misery. 

                     (©Alix Ingber, 1995)



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E-mail your comments and questions to:

Alix Ingber
Professor of Spanish
Sweet Briar College

ingber@sbc.edu



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