Francisco de Quevedo

A Dafne, huyendo de Apolo


"Tras vos, un alquimista va corriendo,
Dafne, que llaman Sol, ¿y vos tan cruda?
Vos os volvéis murciégalo sin duda,
pues vais del Sol y de la luz huyendo.

Él os quiere gozar, a lo que entiendo,
si os coge en esta selva tosca y ruda:
su aljaba suena, está su bolsa muda;
el perro, pues no ladra, está muriendo.

Buhonero de signos y planetas,
viene haciendo ademanes y figuras,
cargado de bochornos y cometas."

Esto la dije; y en cortezas duras
de laurel se ingirió contra sus tretas,
y, en escabeche, el Sol se quedó a escuras.



To Daphne, fleeing from Apollo


"An alchemist is running after you,
Daphne, he's called the Sun, and you're so rude?
Without a doubt you're acting like a bat,
since Sun and light you so swiftly elude.

He plans to have you, as I understand it,
if he can catch you in this forest dark:
his quiver's noisy, but his purse is voiceless;
the dog must be near death, since it won't bark.

A hawker of the signs and of the planets,
he's making funny faces, gesturing,
all laden down with steamy days and comets."

This I said; and to stiff laurel bark
she grafted herself on, to flee his wiles,
and the Sun, pickled, was left in the dark. 

                     (©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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