no en solitario esplendor suspendido en la noche
vigilando, con los ojos eternamente abiertos
y la sencilla paciencia del insomne ermitaño,
el agitado océano que en sacerdotal tarea
purifica las costas humanas de la tierra;
ni contemplando la suave y nueva máscara de nieve
caída blandamente sobre montones y páramos;
no, aunque sí como tú, constante e inmutable,
reclinado en el regazo maduro de mi amor,
sentir para siempre la suave cadencia de su pecho,
y, en permanente vela y con dulce inquietd,
oír -quieto, quieto-, cómo respira tiernamente
y así siempre vivir o, si no, entregarme a la muerte."
JOHN KEATS en Lírica inglesa del siglo XIX. Madrid.
Homolegens. 2007.
Edición bilingüe y prólogo de Ángel Rupérez.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
