Soneto XVII by Pablo Neruda

[spiralsheep]

Soneto XVII by Pablo Neruda

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.


Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda (translated by Stephen Mitchell)

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

Comments

[vi]

The last stanza gets me especially. <3 Thank you for sharing this!

[spiralsheep]

I think it's the whole sonnet that gets me.... :-D
One of my USian friends shared her appreciation of Neruda's poems with me so it feels good to be able to pass that on further. And next... hmm, more Spanish? Or an Old English into English translation for variety? So much choice, so little time. :-)

[miss_haitch]

This is beautiful and moving. Thank you so much for posting it!

[spiralsheep]

You're welcome. I can't quite get over how excellent Stephen Mitchell's translations are (or seem to me). It must've been such a daunting task being faced with Pablo Neruda's brilliant poetry and trying to reconstruct it in the "wrong" language.

[glass_icarus]

OMG, one of my favorites ever (though the translation I have is slightly different). Thanks for posting!

[spiralsheep]

I looked at three translations before deciding that, for me personally, the Mitchell version managed to find the most poetry in a close translation. But the rhythms of various readers' internal voice is so important to our individual readings that I'm sure other people might prefer a different translation. :-)

[seekingferret]

I don't think I've ever liked a translation of Neruda. He seems to me one of those poets where sense is so entangled with form. This translation comes close, though. Thanks for posting it, and thanks for putting in the effort of trying to evaluate them.

[spiralsheep]

I wouldn't dare post to this com without forethought, heh.

Interestingly, while I like Mitchell's translation of this particular poem, I have problems with some of his other translations/adaptations. What was it Borges reputedly said about Neruda? "I think of him as a very fine poet, a very fine poet. I don't admire him as a man, I think of him as a very mean man." Like poet, like translator, in this case, perhaps. :-)