Poemas y Canciones Traducción Inglés

Sonnet XI

Pablo Neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Personal Message 

Françoise Hardy / Michel Berger 

At the end of the line, there's your voice

And there are the words that I won't say

All these words that frighten us when they don't make us laugh

That are in many films, songs and books

I'd like to say them to you

And I'd like to live them

I won't do it,

I want, I cannot

I'm the only one to suffer, and I know where you are

I'll arrive, wait for me, we'll recognize each other

Spare some of your time, for you I have all of mine

I'd like to arrive.. I stay, I hate myself

I won't arrive,

I want, I cannot

I should talk to you,

I should arrive

Or should I sleep?

I'm afraid you'd be deaf

I'm afraid you'd be weak

I'm afraid I'd be indiscreet

I can't tell you that I love you, maybe

Sonnet CXXXIV

Francesco Petrarca 

I find no peace, and have no arms for war, 

and fear and hope, and burn and yet I freeze, 

and fly to heaven, lying on earth's floor, 

and nothing hold, and all the world I seize. 

My jailer opens not, nor locks the door, 

nor binds me to hear, nor will loose my ties; 

Love kills me not, nor breaks the chains I wear, 

nor wants me living, nor will grant me ease.

 

I have no tongue, and shout; eyeless, I see;

I long to perish, and I beg for aid;

I love another, and myself I hate. 

Weeping I laugh, I feed on misery,

by death and life so equally dismayed:

for you, my lady, am I in this state.

Restless love  

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 In the face of snow and rain, 
against the wind,
in foggy ravines, 
through clouds of mist, 
onwards, ever onwards! 
Without rest or respite!
I would rather fight my way 
through suffering
than have so many joys
of life to endure.

All this affection
of one heart for another, 
ah, how strangely
it brings pain!
How can I flee?
Should I head for the forest?
It is all in vain!
Crown of life,
happiness without repose, 
 O Love, this is what you are!