LO FATAL FATE
Rubén Darío tr. Brian Cole


Dichoso el árbol, que es apenas sensitivo,
y más la piedra dura porque ésa ya no siente,
pues no hay dolor más grande que el dolor de ser vivo,
ni mayor pesadumbre que la vida consciente.

Ser, y no saber nada, y ser sin rumbo cierto,
y el temor de haber sido y un futuro terror ...
¡Y el espanto seguro de estar mañana muerto,
y sufrir por la vida y por la sombra y por

lo que no conocemos y apenas sospechamos,
y la carne que tienta con sus frescos racimos,
y la tumba que aguarda con sus fúnebres ramos,
y no saber adónde vamos,
ni de dónde venimos! ...


Happy is the tree, for it can hardly feel,
and even more hard stone that cannot feel at all,
for there is no greater pain than that of being alive,
no greater affliction than being alive and conscious.

To be, and to know nothing, and to have no fixed being,
and the fear of having been, and a terror of the future ...
and the certain terror of being dead tomorrow,
and to suffer for life, for the shadows, and for

what we do not know and hardly even suspect,
and the flesh that tempts us with its cool grapes,
and the tomb that awaits us with funereal branches,
and not to know where we are going,
nor from whence we come! ...

Click here 2 for another translation of this poem.

Trans. copyright © Brian Cole 2007


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