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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s