Siempre me gustaron las obras de Shakespeare. Lloré con Romeo y Julieta, me indigné con Otelo, me reí con Las Alegres Comadres de Windsor... Pero recuerdo siempre un poema que leímos en la escuela... Hace tiempo que pensé en buscarlo para el blog y nunca lo hice.
Hoy una amiga del facebook compartió el Soneto XVI. Me trajo recuerdos. Y por eso me decidí a compartirlo con Uds.
El soneto XVI parte del soneto XV. Dicen que hay que leerlos juntos. Traduzco un fragmento de una explicación que encontré en Shakespeare's Sonnets: "El poeta se aparta de la declaración de la inmortalidad prometida, ha cambiado de opinión y encuentra su verso (la pluma pupila) inadecuado para representar al joven tal como es, o para dar cuenta de su belleza interior y exterior. Por lo tanto, se insta nuevamente al muchacho a entregarse en matrimonio y a recrearse a sí mismo". Se comprenderá esta explicación mejor una vez leídos ambos poemas.
Como siempre con los poemas que no son originalmente en español, seguido a la traducción, les comparto el original.
Soneto XV
Cuando pienso que cada criatura
Es perfecta apenas un instante,
Que cada acto de este gran tablado
Las estrellas comentan con sigilo,
Y los hombres padecen cual plantas
La clemencia y el rigor del mismo cielo,
Ascendiendo esbeltos a la cumbre
Y luego descendiendo hacia el olvido,
Por gracia de esta condición mudable
Más valiosa es tu bella lozanía,
donde el Tiempo y la ruina se debaten
Por cambiar joven día en noche huraña.
Amándote, y en guerra con el Tiempo,
De ti quiero fijar lo que él se lleva.
Es perfecta apenas un instante,
Que cada acto de este gran tablado
Las estrellas comentan con sigilo,
Y los hombres padecen cual plantas
La clemencia y el rigor del mismo cielo,
Ascendiendo esbeltos a la cumbre
Y luego descendiendo hacia el olvido,
Por gracia de esta condición mudable
Más valiosa es tu bella lozanía,
donde el Tiempo y la ruina se debaten
Por cambiar joven día en noche huraña.
Amándote, y en guerra con el Tiempo,
De ti quiero fijar lo que él se lleva.
Soneto XVI
¿Por qué no buscas armas más seguras,
Para vencer al Tiempo, ese tirano,
Y te pones a salvo de la ruina
Con medios más felices que mis versos?
Hoy gozas de tus horas más dichosas
Y más de un jardín virgen e inculto
Te daría, virtuoso, flores vivas
Más fieles a tu imagen que un retrato.
Vida ofrecen las líneas de la vida
Que ni frágil pincel ni rima humilde
Darían a tu gracia o tu figura
Para honrarte a los ojos de los hombres.
Entrégate, y tu efigie haz perdurable,
Cincelada por ti y tu dulce arte.
Para vencer al Tiempo, ese tirano,
Y te pones a salvo de la ruina
Con medios más felices que mis versos?
Hoy gozas de tus horas más dichosas
Y más de un jardín virgen e inculto
Te daría, virtuoso, flores vivas
Más fieles a tu imagen que un retrato.
Vida ofrecen las líneas de la vida
Que ni frágil pincel ni rima humilde
Darían a tu gracia o tu figura
Para honrarte a los ojos de los hombres.
Entrégate, y tu efigie haz perdurable,
Cincelada por ti y tu dulce arte.
Sonnet XV
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night,
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night,
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
(1609 Quarto Version)
WHen I conſider euery thing that growes
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge ſtage preſenteth nought but ſhowes
Whereon the Stars in ſecret influence comment.
When I perceiue that men as plants increaſe,
Cheared and checkt euen by the ſelfe-ſame skie:
Vaunt in their youthfull ſap,at height decreaſe,
And were their braue ſtate out of memory.
Then the conceit of this inconſtant ſtay,
Sets you moſt rich in youth before my ſight,
Where waſtfull time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to ſullied night,
And all in war with Time for loue of you
As he takes from you, I ingraft you new
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge ſtage preſenteth nought but ſhowes
Whereon the Stars in ſecret influence comment.
When I perceiue that men as plants increaſe,
Cheared and checkt euen by the ſelfe-ſame skie:
Vaunt in their youthfull ſap,at height decreaſe,
And were their braue ſtate out of memory.
Then the conceit of this inconſtant ſtay,
Sets you moſt rich in youth before my ſight,
Where waſtfull time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to ſullied night,
And all in war with Time for loue of you
As he takes from you, I ingraft you new
Sonnet XVI
But wherefore do not you
a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
(1609 Quarto Version)
BVt wherefore do not you a mightier waie
Make warre vppon this bloudie tirant time?
And fortifie your ſelfe in your decay
With meanes more bleſſed then my barren rime?
Now ſtand you on the top of happie houres,
And many maiden gardens yet vnſet,
With vertuous wiſh would beare your liuing flowers,
Much liker then your painted counterfeit:
So ſhould the lines of life that life repaire
Which this (Times penſel or my pupill pen )
Neither in inward worth nor outward faire
Can make you liue your ſelfe in eies of men,
To giue away your ſelfe,keeps your ſelfe ſtill,
And you muſt liue drawne by your owne ſweet ſkill
Make warre vppon this bloudie tirant time?
And fortifie your ſelfe in your decay
With meanes more bleſſed then my barren rime?
Now ſtand you on the top of happie houres,
And many maiden gardens yet vnſet,
With vertuous wiſh would beare your liuing flowers,
Much liker then your painted counterfeit:
So ſhould the lines of life that life repaire
Which this (Times penſel or my pupill pen )
Neither in inward worth nor outward faire
Can make you liue your ſelfe in eies of men,
To giue away your ſelfe,keeps your ſelfe ſtill,
And you muſt liue drawne by your owne ſweet ſkill
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