William Shakespeare (trad. de Jesús Gómez Morán)
SONNET XXXI
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I loved, I view in thee,
And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.
William Shakespeare (trad. de Jesús Gómez Morán)
SONNET XXXI
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I loved, I view in thee,
And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.
SONETO XXXI
Se embelleció tu pecho con esos corazones
que al sentirlos ausentes suponíalos muertos:
allí el amor impera y entre amorosos trozos
con todos los amantes que yo creía ocultos.
Cuántas pródigas lágrimas, intensas y benditas
con religioso amor robaron a mis ojos,
como tributo a aquellos muertos aparecidos
son hoy cosas lejanas que dentro de ti guardas.
Tú eres la sagrada urna donde oculto amor vive,
te ornas con los trofeos de antiguos mis amantes:
esa fracción que tienen de mí han venido a darte,
lo que a muchos di ahora sólo te pertenece:
en ti veo los rostros de quienes amé un día,
y tú, junto con ellos, completo me posees.
SONNET XXXII
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,
Compare them with the bett’ring of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
“Had my friend’s muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought
To march in ranks of better equipage.
But since he died and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I’ll read, his for his love.”
SONETO XXXII
Si vives más allá de mis alegres días,
cuando la muerte cubra mis huesos con su polvo,
y alguna vez por suerte recorra tu mirada
estas agrestes líneas de tu amante difunto,
con las mejores que haya en esa era contrástalas,
no importa que esas plumas en virtud las excedan,
por el amor que encierran, no por su rima, guárdalas,
superadas por hombres de más feliz ingenio.
Sólo entonces concédeme esta excusa amorosa:
“Si su musa mi amigo en este tiempo próspero
la hallare, habría escrito de amor más bellas obras,
que irían revestidas con un digno ropaje:
pero tras de su muerte hay mejores poetas,
leeré a éstos por su estilo y por su amor a él solo”.
SONNET XXXIII
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy,
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.
Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all triumphant splendor on my brow;
But out alack, he was but one hour mine;
The region cloud hath masked him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth.
Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s sun staineth.
SONETO XXXIII
He visto amaneceres acariciar radiantes
cimas de las montañas, con majestuosa vista
besar su faz dorada, la verdura en los prados
y pálidos arroyos tostar con áurea alquimia.
Luego, las más impías nubes van extendiendo
un velo de tristeza en su celestial rostro,
y al nublarle el semblante de pesar es el mundo
cicatriz de un ocaso en fuga hacia el poniente.
Así al amanecer brilló un sol en mi vida
y su esplendor triunfante de luz bañó mi frente,
mas qué efímera dicha tuve sólo un instante,
porque hoy de mí se esconde dentro de un mar de nubes,
y de este amor incluso su pena no mitiga
que el sol del mundo brille si el de tu cielo nublas.
