nonsense!

For the past few days I've found myself mentally repeating a couple of lines from Quevedo's 'Salmo XVII' disturbingly often (at least is not Lady Gaga, right?). The Salmo is one of my favorite poems, one which I vaguely remember having to memorize in one of my junior high classes. I've always like the sonority of it as well as the images it produces, albeit it's very dark subject, the dreading sense of the looming death.

Anyways, I've decided to share the poem here, in an attempt to exorcise it from my mind. I'm putting the Spanish version and below (couldn't make the two columns look good)  a very crude translation  (my own) for all of you who don’t speak Spanish. Hopefully you can get a sense of why I like it so much.

Salmo XVII

Miré los muros de la patria mía,
si un tiempo fuertes, ya desmoronados, 
de la carrera de la edad cansados, 
por quien caduca ya su valentía. 
 
Salíme al campo; vi que el sol bebía 
los arroyos del yelo desatados, 
y del monte quejosos los ganados, 
que con sombras hurtó su luz al día. 
 
Entré en mi casa; vi que, amancillada, 
de anciana habitación era despojos; 
mi báculo, más corvo y menos fuerte. 
 
Vencida de la edad sentí mi espada, 
y no hallé cosa en que poner los ojos 
que no fuese recuerdo de la muerte. 

  Franciso de Quevedo

English translation:

I watched the walls of my country,
at one time strong, now decayed,
tired by time’s race
for whom they bravery now fades.
 
I went to fields; watched the sun drink
the brooks freed from the ice,
and from the mountain the cattle lamenting,
which with shadows stole the light from the day.
 
I walked upon my house; saw that, stained,
it was now ruins of an ancient room;
my walking stick, more bowed and weaker.
 
Defeated from age I felt my sword,
and I couldn’t lay my gaze upon nothing
that wasn’t a reminder of death.

Hope you like it!
Ramiro