Ibarbourou- traducción editada

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Sor Juana- traducción final

Seeking to Refute the Praises of a Portrait of the Poetess That Inscribed in Her the Truth, That Called Upon Passion

 

This, what you see, is a colorful deception,

that of art flaunting its craft,

with false syllogisms of colors

is a stealthy deceit of senses;

 

this, through which flattery has intended

to excuse the horrors of the years,

and defeating the severities of time,

to triumph over age and oblivion,

 

is a vain artifice of care,

is a flower delicate to the wind,

is a useless shelter from fate;

 

is a foolish, misguided diligence

is an antiquated desire and, under observation,

is cadaver, is dust, is shadow, is nothing.

Ibarbourou- 1ra traducción

The Wait

 

Oh, linen, mature, that I want to weave

into bed sheets where my lover

will sleep soon, soon he will return!

(He has to come back with the spring.)

 

Oh, rose, your dark bud unfurls!

You must be the bouquet that perfumes this parlor.

Collect colors, gather fragrance,

open yourself up so my lover arrives.

 

I will fasten his legs with crickets of gold.

Lightweight chains of the cleanest steel,

I will order with haste, with haste to the blacksmith

love, so he makes them sparkling and eternal.

 

And I will sow poppies throughout all of the garden.

He never remembers the paths nor the routes!

Fatigue: your bandages squeeze his nerves.

Comfort: I know the dog that guards the gate.

Ibarbourou- traducción final

The Wait

 

Oh, ripen, flax, for I want to weave you

into bed sheets where my lover

will slumber soon, soon he will return!

(With the spring he must return.)

 

Oh, rose, your tight bud unfurls!

You must be the bouquet that perfumes his parlor.

Intensify your colors, gather your fragrance,

open up your pores, for my lover arrives.

 

I will fasten his legs with shackles of gold.

Lightweight chains of the cleanest steel,

I will order with haste, with haste for love

is the blacksmith who makes them sparkling and eternal.

 

And I will sow poppies throughout all of the garden.

May he never remember the pathways nor the routes!

Fatigue: may your blindfolds squeeze his nerves.

Effeminacy: be the dog that guards the door.

Sor Juana- primera traducción

Procurement to Refute the Compliments that the Truth Inscribed On a Portrait of Poetry, That is Called Passion

 

This, what you see, is a trick of colors,

That of art flaunting its finesses,

With false syllogisms of colors

Is a prudent trick of senses;

 

This, as to whom flattery has intended

To excuse the horrors from the years,

And defeating the severities of the time,

To triumph over age and oblivion

 

It is a vain artifice of caution,

It is a flower delicate to the breeze,

It is a useless shelter from predestination;

 

It is a relentless, misguided diligence

It is an antiquated desire and, under good observation,

It is a cadaver, it is dust, it is shadow, it is nothingness.

Cortázar traducción final

A Tale of the Ragged Mountains

Translated by Anna Higgins

 

During the autumn of 1827, while I resided near Charlottesville (Virginia), I became acquainted by chance with Mr. Augustus Bedloe. This young gentleman was notable in every sense and awakened in me a profound interest and deep curiosity. I found it impossible for me to understand his physical and moral dispositions. I could not obtain satisfactory information about his family. I never discovered where he came from. Even his age- although I described him as a young gentleman- unsettled me a bit. Surely he seemed young, and he was pleased to speak about his youth; there were many moments when I could have easily attributed to him one hundred years of age. But nothing was more peculiar than his physical appearance. He was uniquely tall and thin and very hunched over. He had his excessively long and stark limbs, his wide and tall forehead, his bloodless complexion, his large and flexible mouth, and his teeth more uneven, although healthy, than I have ever seen in a human head. The expression of his smile, however, in no way was unpleasant, as one would imagine; but it was absolutely unchanging. He had a profound melancholy, a uniform, constant sadness. His eyes were an abnormal size, large and round, like those of a cat. Also, his pupils suffered a contraction or dilation with the increase or decrease of light like one can observe in the feline specimen. In moments of excitement his eyes shone to an almost inconceivable degree; they appeared to emit luminous rays, not of a reflected light, but an intrinsic one, like a candle, like the sun; but generally he had an appearance so muted, so veiled and opaque, that his eyes evoked those of a long-buried cadaver.

Xpobal- traducción final

Translation: Inquisitorial Process of Xpobal

“Processes of Indian Idolatry and Sorcerers”

Page 165

 

o.- Witness, Alonso de Linón, Spanish.

 

Alonso de Liñan, a witness sworn under law before the sign of the cross, said: that I will tell the truth on everything that was asked, for the oath that I have made; asking, that what it is that he knows about this matter, and if he saw Xpobal,[1] native Indian of Ocuituco, and his brother Martín, drunk, he said: that for the oath that I have made, that last night, that was Quasimodo Sunday,[2] I was speaking with Luis Alvarez, and when they wanted to go to bed, we heard voices and mitote[3] that were being made from the house of the aforementioned Xpobal, Indian, and the one who testifies took his sword and went to see what thing was over there, and passed by Xpobal’s house and heard him crying out like a drunkard, and wanting to enter there, he heard other voices there in the same street, close to the home of the aforementioned Xpobal, and he went over there, and entered the house of a principal[4] who was named Martín, brother of the aforementioned Xpobal, where voices were shouting, and he found the aforementioned Martín and others drunk and so far from sense that they were unable to stand and saying a thousand absurdities and heresies…

…and upon arriving, they saw that the aforementioned Xpobal very bewildered and far from sense, with a garland of roses and two súchiles[5] in his hands, dancing and singing, and two Indians holding him up by the arm so that he would not fall, and a large quantity of townspeople had come out to the voices and canticles that accompanied the aforementioned Xpobal, and the one who testifies requested of one of his Indians that he tell him what was he was singing, and he responded, “do you not see that he is calling the devil,”

…the aforementioned father Diego Diez was locked away in his bed chamber, and because of the shouts that accompanied the aforementioned Xpobal, left his bed chamber and reprimanded and told him to go home or be damned, many times, and not to disturb the town anymore; he refused to do so, instead he was singing and dancing more and saying many things and nonsenses, sometimes singing, other times crying and dancing; and the aforementioned father Diego Diez ordered him to be locked away with his other aforementioned brother, those which were singing and crying and laughing and yelling out and saying nonsenses until almost the daytime; and this witness ordered to call the brother of the aforementioned Xpobal and other pilguanejos,[6] so that they would talk and they would make them be quiet, those which they reprehended and when they refused to be quiet, instead he threatened them and yelled out in louder voices; and that this is the truth and he signed it with his name. -Alonso de Liñan

[1] Shorthand for “Cristobal”

[2] The first Sunday after Easter

[3] Word the Spaniards used for general chaos and uproar made by the native population, but mitote was actually a native word for a specific type of ceremony. The Spaniards misconstrued its connotation to mean their interpretation of native activities.

[4] Principal refers to a native leader and elder.

[5] Súchiles refers to a type of flower that grew in the natives’ land.

[6] Pilguanejos refers to the native housekeeping staff.