Lope de Vegatr. Alix Ingber
Noche, fabricadora de embelecos,
loca, imaginativa, quimerista,
que muestras al que en ti su bien conquista
los montes llanos y los mares secos;

habitadora de cerebros huecos,
mecánica, filósofa, alquimista,
encubridora vil, lince sin vista,
espantadiza de tus mismos ecos:

la sombra, el miedo, el mal se te atribuya,
solícita, poeta, enferma, fría,
manos del bravo y pies del fugitivo.

Que vele o duerma, media vida es tuya:
si velo, te lo pago con el día,
y si duermo, no siento lo que vivo.
Night, you fabricator of deceptions,
insane, fantastic, and chimerical,
who show those who derive delight from you
the mountains flattened and the seas gone dry;

inhabitor of hollow, empty brains,
mechanic, alchemist, philosopher,
a vile concealer, lynx that cannot see,
you are of your own echoes terrified:

darkness, fear, and evil are your works,
cautious, poetess, infirm and cold,
with ruffian's hands and feet of fugitive.

Whether I sleep or wake, half my life's yours:
if I'm awake, I pay you the next day,
and if I sleep, I sense not what I live.

Click here 1 for another translation of this poem.

Trans. copyright © Alix Ingber 1995

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