Charities of Alcippus II
In Wood worried that prowl the battered
In the shaded gardens where seeds jasmine,
Sealer finger lifted their long silent complaints,
come to me I saw the people of the statues
Marble and metal m ' seized by the hand.
At the bottom of golden temples where idols of dark From their
sapphire eyes looking towards the sea,
A slow sigh, like the thrill of gondolas, rocking on their
within the heavy chandeliers;
All rose on me their beautiful look bitter.
In the depths of the mountains, the gorges of Carrara marble
The uncut shouted under my feet, And
jasper, and agate, and porphyry rare
Dragged on site by sculptors barbarians
told me what despair is not to be. They suffered
to ignore what names they are called, or what kings
What Caesars, liabilities representatives
They will be on the gates of Rome, And what
Forgot your master in this hell of man
Will remain in them as an insult to time.
The Greek Gods lamented their beauty still vain
Tired of all the incense of themselves unnoticed
The warmth of fine evenings do not fill their veins,
And beneath their pale foreheads girded to buy and verbena
pain to exist without having ever known.
Gods asked me my soul inexhaustible
As a source of gold that would spring up in them,
order for the faithful to kneel on the sand,
Seeing their smiling mask finally unknowable
Open your arms, s ECRI, and is happy.
So they can listen to those who pray,
Or mock them fools worshipers
Open their eyes on the world of gems, Las
our deception and our idolatries, their priests and punish
hit their sculptors .
So I stuck my mouth with their tough lips
On the mound already hot as I kissed her;
My soul with his fears, his despair, his fever,
In their rigid body polished by goldsmiths,
S 'went into a whole with its past. My body
widower of my soul wandered in scope,
Insensitive to wind melodious calls;
Comme une lampe d'or vainement suspendue,
Dont l'huile goutte à goutte à jamais s'est perdue,
Mon âme m'avait fui pour animer les Dieux.
MARGUERITE YOURCENAR
Las caridades de Alcipio II
En los inquietos bosques vibrantes de batidas,
Por los jardines ebrios donde sube el jazmín,
Sellando con el dedo sus quejidos callados,
Vi venir hacia mí una legión de estatuas;
El mármol y el metal me tomaron la mano.
En los templos dorados donde sombríos ídolos
Miran con sus ojos de zafiro hacia el mar,
A sigh, as the chill of a gondola, elongated,
lifted up their heavy breasts pinwheels;
All, with its beautiful bitter eyes watching me.
In the depths of the mountains, in the workings of Carrara marble low gross
my time crying;
jasper, agate and porphyry
For the wild rare sculptor workshop dragged
The despair of not being me said. They suffered
ignore the names they had,
of not knowing what to Caesar what
passively King would be on the gates of Rome;
What this teacher forgotten man hell
as an affront to time, they would still
The Greek gods were suffering from empty beauty,
Tired of invisible incense around;
The sweet warmth of the afternoon did not fill their veins and their livid
fronts
verbena celery and encircled the pain of being without having known it.
gods asked me endless
my soul That they would flow like a glowing source,
For the faithful kneeling in the sand,
Seeing so secret smile masks,
Open Arms, to rejoice and stand rapt;
To suddenly hear those who pray
O quietly mock the lovable fool,
Expand your eyes on the world of diamonds, and
tired of the deception and the idolatry
Punishing the priest and hit the sculptor.
then pasted my mouth to his lips severe
The marble in my embrace and burning;
My soul from fear, grief, fevers,
In those hard bodies that the goldsmith polished,
Whole and all his past away. Widowed
my body my soul wandered by extension,
Insensitive to wind melodious signals;
As a golden lamp in vain Whose
suspended oil drop by drop, to always be poured,
To encourage the gods I left my soul. Translation
SILVIA BARON SUPERVIELLE
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