Sunday, December 28, 2008

ReÍr Llorando -- Juan Dios Peza (Mexico)

REÍR LLORANDO
Laugh Crying

Viendo a Garrick -actor de la Inglaterra-
el pueblo al aplaudirlo le decía:
“Eres el más gracioso de la tierra,
y más feliz…” y el cómico reía.

Watching Garrick, an actor of England,
the people applauded him and told him:
"You are the funniest in the land,
and hte most happy..." and the comedian laughed.

Víctimas del spleen, los altos lores
en sus noches más negras y pesadas,
iban a ver al rey de los actores,
y cambiaban su spleen en carcajadas.

Victims of the spleen, high values
in their darkest and heaviest nights,
they have seen the king of actors,
and changed his spleen in cachinnation.

Una vez, ante un médico famoso,
llegóse un hombre de mirar sombrío:
sufro -le dijo-, un mal tan espantoso
como esta palidez del rostro mío.

One time, before a famous doctor,
Arrived a man of somber looks:
I suffer -- he said -- of a dreadful evil
like this my pale face of mine.

Nada me causa encanto ni atractivo;
no me importan mi nombre ni mi suerte;
en un eterno spleen muriendo vivo,
y es mi única pasión la de la muerte.

I consider nothing charming nor attractive,
I dont care about my name nor my fate;
In an eternal spleen dying I live,
and my only passion is that of death.

-Viajad y os distraeréis. -¡Tanto he viajado!
-Las lecturas buscad. -¡Tanto he leído!
-Que os ame una mujer. -¡Si soy amado!
-Un título adquirid. -¡Noble he nacido!

-Travel and entertain yourself. - How much I have traveled!
-Seek Readings. - So much I have read!
-Love a woman. - If I'm loved!
-Acquire a title. -I was born noble!

-¿Pobre seréis quizá? -Tengo riquezas.
-¿De lisonjas gustáis? -¡Tantas escucho!
-¿Qué tenéis de familia? -Mis tristezas.
-¿Vais a los cementerios? -Mucho… mucho.

-Maybe you are poor? -I have wealth
-What flattery do you like? - I hear so much!
-What do you have of family? - My sorrows.
-Aer you going to the cemeteries? - Often... often.

-De vuestra vida actual ¿tenéis testigos?
-Sí, mas no dejo que me impongan yugos:
yo les llamo a los muertos mis amigos;
y les llamo a los vivos, mis verdugos.

-In your life, do you have witnesses?
-Yes. more than no they impose yokes on me:
I call the dead my friensd;
I cal the living, my executioners.

Me deja -agrega el médico- perplejo
vuestro mal, y no debe acobardaros;
tomad hoy por receta este consejo
“Sólo viendo a Garrick podréis curaros”.
-¿A Garrik? -Sí, a Garrick… La más remisa
y austera sociedad le busca ansiosa;
todo aquel que lo ve muere de risa;
¡Tiene una gracia artística asombrosa!
-¿Y a mí me hará reír? -¡Ah! sí, os lo juro;
Él sí; nada más él; más… ¿qué os inquieta?
-Así -dijo el enfermo-, no me curo:
¡Yo soy Garrick!… Cambiadme la receta.

You leave me -- added the doctor -- perplexed.
you are sick, but you should not daunt yourself,
take today by prescription this advice
"Just watching Garrick you can cure yourself."
-Garrick? -Yes, Garrick... the most reluctant and
austere society has brought upon you anxiety;
All who have seen him dye of laughter;
He has a marvellous artistic grace!
-And he will make me laugh? -Ah! Yes, I swear to you'
Yes him; nothing more him, more... What worries you?
-In fact-- said the sick-- I cant curo myself:
I am Garrick! Change my prescription.

¡Cuántos hay que, cansados de la vida,
enfermos de pesar, muertos de tedio,
hacen reír como el actor suicida,
sin encontrar para su mal remedio!

How many times are there that, the weary of life,
the sick of grief, corpses of boredom,
They laugh like the suicidal actor,
without encountering their bad remedy!

¡Ay! ¡Cuántas veces al reír se llora!
¡Nadie en lo alegre de la risa fíe,
porque en los seres que el dolor devora
el alma llora cuando el rostro ríe!

Ay! How many times the laugh it cries!
Nobody trust in the joyful thing of the laugh,
because in those beings that are devoured by pain
the soul cries when the face laughs.

Si se muere la fe, si huye la calma,
si sólo abrojos nuestra planta pisa,
lanza a la faz la tempestad del alma
un relámpago triste: la sonrisa.

If faith kills itself, if it flees the calm,
if only thistles our trampled plant,
speared to the face the tempest of the soul
a sad lightning: the smile.

El carnaval del mundo engaña tanto,
que las vidas son breves mascaradas;
aquí aprendemos a reír con llanto,
y también a llorar con carcajadas.

The carnival of the world tricks so much,
that lives are brief masquerades;
here we learn to laugh with weeping,
and also to cry with cachination.

1 comment:

  1. We Laugh and We Cry

    Watching Garrick, English master of the stage,
    A spellbound public marveled at his craft.
    “You’re the greatest and most wondrous of our age!”
    The actor, though, dismissed them with a laugh.

    Many a lord and lady, theater-bound,
    Sought solace in the actor’s fine-honed skill.
    His consummate performances were found
    To cure their spleens, and every other ill!

    A man of parlous visage, grim and pale,
    Did seek a famous doctor’s sage advice.
    His gaze was haunted and his body frail;
    His face was pallid and his hands were cold as ice.

    “You find me, Doctor, on the verge of death.
    To me, both fame and fortune are a lie.
    My sickly spleen does take away my breath
    And the only hope I harbor is to die!”

    “Travel, my good man!” “I’ve been round the world and back!”
    “Devote your time to books!” “Volumes have I read!”
    “A lady’s love, perhaps?” “There’s not been any lack.”
    “A title or a peerage, then?” “Nobly was I bred!”

    “Are you poor, perchance?” “I’ve savings for tomorrow.”
    “Perhaps you seek acclaim.” “To fame I’m now immune.”
    “And have you next of kin?” “My kinfolk are my sorrows.”
    “And what about the dead?” “I know I’ll join them soon.”

    “Your present life contents you as it stands?”
    “Indeed it does; I’m free of obligations.
    No living soul my fleeting time commands,
    While the dead have no such aspirations.”

    “A case most strange,” the goodly doctor mused.
    “Though nonetheless I trust we’ll find a cure.
    I think you ought to try to be amused,
    And Garrick is the one to see, for sure!”

    “Garrick, did you say?” “Yes, Garrick! All
    The patrons of the arts adore his act.
    Without a doubt his name you will recall.
    I saw him once myself, in fact!

    “And… I too will laugh?” “Of course!
    If he can’t help you, no one will.”
    “I’m sorry,” said the patient with remorse.
    “For I am Garrick… and I’m sickly still.”

    How many are there who wearily live
    With burdens of sadness, and grief and despair?
    Impressions of happiness laughingly give
    Like Garrick, whose sorrow was too much to bear?

    How many are there, who laugh when they cry!
    How bitter the tears that flow from the eyes
    That try to pretend that all’s well, and deny
    The sadness that deep down inside of them lies.

    Once faith is lost, and hope dispelled
    And only sorrow greets our furrowed gaze,
    One’s apt to smile, as if compelled
    To pierce the darkness with resplendent rays.

    This world is but a bitter masquerade,
    A stage whose props are set askew.
    A sordid show, a pitiful charade
    With actors who both laugh and cry on cue.

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