Francisco de Medrano

En la playa de Barcelona,
volviendo de Roma

Pláceme ver el mar cuando se enoja,
y a montes de agua montes acumula,
y al experto patrón (que disimula,
prudente, su temor) puesto en congoja.

También me place verle cuando moja
la orilla malavés, y en leche adula
a quien sus culpas llevan, o su gula,
a cortejar cualque birreta roja.

Turbio me place, y pláceme sereno;
verle seguro, digo, desde afuera,
y éste medroso ver, y éste engañado:

no porque me dé gusto el mal ajeno,
mas por hallarme libre en la ribera,
y del mar falso asaz desengañado.



On the beach at Barcelona,
returning from Rome

I love to see the ocean when it's angry,
and mountains builds of water upon mountains,
and the well-travelled pilot (who must hide,
so prudently, his fear) beset with doubt.

I also love to see it when it bathes
the shore so slightly, flattering in milk
one who is lead by guilt, or by his greed,
some scarlet Cardinal's hat to ferret out.

I love it rough, and when it is serene;
to safely see it, I say, from without,
and this man frightened see, that one deceived.

not because their ill luck pleases me,
but knowing that I'm free upon the shore,
and of the false sea finally undeceived. 

                     (©Alix Ingber, 1995)



 E-mail your comments and questions to:

Alix Ingber
Professor of Spanish
Sweet Briar College

ingber@sbc.edu



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