Versión: Isaías Garde
La fuerza que por el verde tallo conduce a la flor
Conduce también mi verde edad; la que hace estallar la raíz de los árboles
Es mi destructora.
Y estoy mudo para contarle a la rosa torcida
Que la misma fiebre invernal doblega mi juventud.
La fuerza que conduce el agua entre las rocas
Conduce mi sangre roja; la que seca los sonoros arroyos
Vuelve en cera la mía.
Y estoy mudo para murmurar ante mis venas
Cómo la misma boca sorbe el manantial de la montaña.
La mano que agita el agua en el estanque
Revuelve las arenas movedizas; la que enlaza los vientos
Iza la vela de mi mortaja.
Y estoy mudo para contarle al ahorcado
Hasta qué punto de mi arcilla está hecho el barro del verdugo.
Los labios del tiempo drenan el manantial primero;
El amor gotea y se acumula, pero la sangre caída
aliviará esas llagas.
Y estoy mudo para contarle al viento de este clima
De qué manera el tiempo escandió un paraíso en torno a las estrellas.
Y estoy mudo para decir ante la tumba del amante
Que el mismo gusano retorcido marcha por mi sábana.
*****
The force that through the green fuse
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
The force that through the green fuse
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
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