Soneto

Llegué, señora tía, a la Mamora,
donde entre nieblas vi la otra mañana,
desde el seguro de una partesana,
confusa multitud de gente mora.

Pluma acudiendo va tremoladora
andaluza, extremeña y castellana,
pidiendo, si vitela no mongana,
cualque fresco rumor de cantimplora.

Allanó alguno la enemiga tierra
echándose a dormir; otro soldado,
gastador vigilante, con su pico

bizcocho labra. Al fin, en esta guerra
no vi más fuerte, sino el levantado.
De la Mamora. Hoy miércoles. Juanico.



Sonnet

I disembarked, dear aunt, in la Mamora,
where the next morning I saw in the fog
from the safe haven of my trusty armor,
all the confusion of a moorish mob.

Plumes running to the rescue all atremble
from south, and north, and from all Castille teem,
ordering, if not some veal piccata,
at least a fresh sip from an old canteen.

One soldier flattened our opponent's soil
by stretching out to sleep; another man --
a watchful sapper ever working on -- he

shoveled in a sub: and in this war
the only hero I've seen yet is that one.
From La Mamora. Wednesday morning. Johnny. 

                     (©Alix Ingber, 1995)



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Translation notes: The challenge here was to retain the sonnet's colloquial puns. My final rendition, with its equation of "sub" and "hero" in the final tercet, ended up being so colloquial in English (as references to similar kinds of sandwiches) that by the time I returned to this sonnet after not having worked with it for about a year, it took me a while to remember just what it was I was doing!



E-mail your comments and questions to:

Alix Ingber
Professor of Spanish
Sweet Briar College

ingber@sbc.edu



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