Soneto XLII / Pablo Neruda

SONETO XLII

Radiantes días balanceados por el agua marina,
concentrados como el interior de una piedra amarilla
cuyo esplendor de miel no derribó el desorden:
preservó su pureza de rectángulo.

Crepita, sí, la hora como fuego o abejas
y es verde la tarea de sumergirse en hojas,
hasta que hacia la altura es el follaje
un mundo centelleante que se apaga y susurra.

Sed del fuego, abrasadora multitud del estío
que construye un Edén con unas cuantas hojas,
porque la tierra de rostro oscuro no quiere sufrimientos

sino frescura o fuego, agua o pan para todos,
y nada debería dividir a los hombres
sino el sol o la noche, la luna o las espigas.

Pablo Neruda - (Cien sonetos de amor, 1959)





SONNET XLII

Radiant days balanced by the sea water,
concentrated like the inside of a yellow stone
whose splendour of honey did not bring down disorder:
but preserved its rectangular purity.

It crackles, yes, the hour like fire or bees
and green is the chore of submerging oneself in leaves,
until towards the height the foliage is
a blinding world that goes out and whispers.

Thirst of fire, scorching multitude of the summertime
that builds an Eden with a few leaves,
because the dark-faced earth does not want suffering

but freshness or fire, water or bread for all,
and nothing should divide people
but the sun or the night, the moon or the wheat.

Pablo Neruda - (100 Love Sonnets, 1959)

Translated by Gustavo Escobedo





SONNET XLII

Radiant days balanced by sea water,
as concentrated as the inside of a yellow stone
whose honey-like splendour did not overcome the disorder:
but preserved it in its rectangular purity.

It crackles, yes, the hour like fire or bees
and it’s green, the task of submerging oneself in leaves,
until towards the height the foliage is
a twinkling world that switches off and whispers.

Thirst of the fire, scorching summer crowd
which builds an Eden with a few leaves,
because the dark-faced land does not want suffering

but freshness or fire, water or bread for all,
and nothing should divide men
except the sun or the night, the moon or the wheat.

Pablo Neruda - (100 Love Sonnets, 1959)





SONE XLII

Deniz suyunda salınan ışıltılı günler,
kargaşanın sürüklendiği sarı bir kayanın ruhu gibi,
çöktüler tortuya baldan görkemiyle onun:
Saflığını korudu böylece dikdörtgen.

Çıtırdar ya saat, ateş ya da arılar gibi,
yeşil vurur gömülerek yapraklara
yeşil dallardan bir tepe oluncaya,
ışık saçan bir dünya söner ve fısıldar kendi kendine.

Üzüntü çekemez artık toprağın karanlık yüzü,
susamıştır ateşe birkaç yaprakla bir cennet kuran
yaz günlerinin sarmaş dolaş kabalığı.

Tazelik ve ateştir, su ya da ekmek herkese;
hiçbir şey düşmedi erkeklerin payına
güneş ya da gece, ay ya da dikenlerden başka.

Pablo Neruda - (Yüz Aşk Sonesi’nden, 1959)

Çeviri: Adnan Özer

Série Nazaré. 1953-57, by Artur Pastor