Francisco de Quevedo

Rendimiento de amante desterrado
que se deja en poder de su tristeza


Éstas son y serán ya las postreras
lágrimas que, con fuerza de voz viva,
perderé en esta fuente fugitiva,
que las lleva a la sed de tantas fieras.

¡Dichoso yo que, en playas extranjeras,
siendo alimento a pena tan esquiva,
halle muerte piadosa, que derriba
tanto vano edificio de quimeras!

Espírito desnudo, puro amante,
sobre el sol arderé, y el cuerpo frío
se acordará de Amor en polvo y tierra.

Yo me seré epitafio al caminante,
pues le dirá, sin vida, el rostro mío:
"Ya fue gloria de Amor hacerme guerra."



Surrender of an exiled lover
to the power of his own sadness


These are now and will be the very last
tears that, with all the strength of living voice,
I shall lose in this fountain's fleeting stream,
which carries them to slake the thirst of brutes.

I'm fortunate if, on some far-off shore,
while nourishing so much elusive pain,
I find a death that's merciful, and fells
such flimsy structures built on weakened roots!

A spirit thus stripped bare a lover pure,
upon the sun I'll burn, and my cold flesh
in dust and earth will keep Love's memory.

to travellers I'll be an epitaph,
since my face, lifeless, will declare to them:
"It was Love's triumph to make war on me." 

                     (©Alix Ingber, 1995)



 E-mail your comments and questions to:

Alix Ingber
Professor of Spanish
Sweet Briar College

ingber@sbc.edu



Navigation