If you love poetry ...
The evenings of January | Las tardes de enero ...
by Juan Ramón Jiménez
✕
Con richiesta di revisione
Testi originali
Las tardes de enero
Va cayendo la noche: la bruma
ha bajado a los montes el cielo:
una lluvia menuda y monótona
humedece los árboles secos.
El rumor de sus gotas penetra
hasta el fondo sagrado del pecho,
donde el alma, dulcísima, esconde
su perfume de amor y recuerdos.
¡Cómo cae la bruma en el alma!
¡Qué tristeza de vagos misterios
en sus nieblas heladas esconden
esas tardes sin sol ni luceros!
En las tardes de rosas y brisas
los dolores se olvidan, riendo,
y las penas glaciales se ocultan
tras los ojos radiantes de fuego.
Cuando el frío desciende a la tierra,
inundando las frentes de invierno,
se reflejan las almas marchitas
a través de los pálidos cuerpos.
Y hay un algo de pena insondable
en los ojos sin lumbre del cielo,
y las largas miradas se pierden
en la nada sin fe de los sueños.
La nostalgia, tristísima, arroja
en las almas su amargo silencio,
y los niños se duermen soñando
con ladrones y lobos hambrientos.
Los jardines se mueren de frío;
en sus largos caminos desiertos
no hay rosales cubiertos de rosas,
no hay sonrisas, suspiros ni besos.
¡Cómo cae la bruma en el alma
perfumada de amor y recuerdos!
¡Cúantas almas se van de la vida
estas tardes sin sol ni luceros!
Pubblicato da Valeriu Raut 2020-07-02
Traduzione
The Evenings of January
The night is falling quietly: from the sky,
the drizzle has descended over the mountains:
a light and monotonous rain
waters the dry trees.
The murmur of its drops penetrates
the sacred depths of the chest,
where the sweet soul hides
the fragrance of its unforgettable loves.
The drizzle falls on the soul!
It brings with it a sadness of vague mysteries
and in its icy mists hides those
late afternoons without sun and stars!
In sunny afternoons with light breeze
the pains are forgotten, the soul laughs,
and the icy suffering is hidden
behind the radiant eyes of the fire.
But when the cold descends on earth,
and winter floods with its cold fronts,
the withered souls of all beings
are reflected through their pale bodies.
There is a kind of impenetrable sadness
even in the lightless eyes of the heaven,
and in the long glance that is lost
in the disbelief of nonexistence of dreams.
The saddest nostalgia is the one that
throws into the soul its bitter silence, late in
the evenings, when children are asleep dreaming
of thieves and hungry wolves hidden in the outside cold.
The gardens freeze to death, a cold death;
and on their long, deserted paths there are
no more rose bushes full with roses,
no more smiles, only sighs without kisses.
The drizzle falls, falls on the soul,
on the soul perfumed with love and memories!
How many souls are leaving this life during
these January evenings without sun and stars!?
poetica
Grazie! ❤ | ||
thanked 4 times |
Questa è una traduzione poetica. Ci possono essere delle differenze rispetto all'originale (parole in più, informazioni mancanti o aggiuntive, concetti modificati, ecc.).
Pubblicato da ioan.transylvania 2021-11-14
Ultima modifica ioan.transylvania 2022-10-22
Commenti dell’autore:
If you love poetry ...
The Evenings of January | Las tardes de enero ...
by Juan Ramón Jiménez
Ioan, from Transylvania ...
✕
Juan Ramón Jiménez: 3 più popolari
1. | Yo no soy yo |
2. | El viaje definitivo |
3. | Vino, primero, pura |
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Chi è il traduttore
Nome: ioan
Ruolo: Master
Contribuzione al sito:664 traduzioni, 8 canzoni, ringraziato 1418 volte, ha soddisfatto 10 richieste ha aiutato 9 membri, ha trascritto 1 testi, ha aggiunto 9 modi di dire, ha spiegato 23 modi di dire, ha lasciato 711 commenti
Lingue: madrelingua: Rumeno, fluente: Inglese, Rumeno, avanzato: Inglese, Spagnolo, intermedio: Francese