A Júpiter


Tonante monseñor, ¿de cuándo acá
fulminas jovenetos? Yo no sé
cuánta pluma ensillaste para el que
sirviéndote la copa aún hoy está.

El garzón frigio, a quien de bello da
tanto la antigüedad, besara el pie
al que mucho de España esplendor fue,
y poca, mas fatal, ceniza es ya.

Ministro, no grifaño, duro sí,
que en Líparis Estérope forjó,
piedra digo bezar de otro Pirú,

las hojas inflamó de un alhelí,
y los Acroceraunios montes no.
¡Oh Júpiter, o tú, mil veces tú!



To Jupiter

Thundering monsignor, since when do you
hurl bolts at juveniles? I can't count up
how many plumes you had to saddle for
him who even these days bears your cup.

The Phrygian youth, of whom antiquity
his beauty praises so, should kiss the foot
of him who was for Spain splendor so great,
and scant, but fatal, now is merely soot.

Your minister, no gryphon, surely harsh,
which Steropes had forged in Lipari,
a bezoar I say of a new Peru,

the petals kindled of a fragile flower,
and not the towering Ceraunian peaks.
Oh Jupiter, oh you, it's always you! 

                     (©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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