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Cinco bueyes

Пять быков

Por años de servicio un hombre rico
– cuidaba a sus caballos en el campo –
cinco bueyes me dio que uncía al yugo,
cual premio del trabajo, uno por año.

Leones me arrancaron al primero;
vi sus huellas escritas en la hierba;
pensé en alzar de agudo espino un seto,
de noche mantener viva la hoguera.

Mas otro a la carrrera escapó un día
seguido de un enjambre enfurecido;
largo tiempo busquélo en la espesura,
inútil fue mi esfuerzo y él, perdido.

Por medio de un beleño venenoso,
dos bueyes me mató mi cruel vecino.
Pendía azul su lengua entre los dientes;
no lejos terminaron del camino.

Al quinto degollé con un cuchillo,
lo asé con sumo gusto, celebrando
que ardía al fin la casa del vecino
y que él gritaba dentro, bien atado.

Другие переводы:

А вот еще:


Dear girl, your cheeks are soft and tender, / And your breasts, like little hills, are slender, / / Fall in love with me and from this instance / We will never live apart in distance. / / My piragua, we will board together, / And the wind will set our sail untethered. / / ...


Beautiful lassies, we are you now? / You who don't answer me anymore / You who forgot all about me; / Left me behind - now my weakened voice / Wakes up the echo in vain. / / Have you been eaten by angry beasts? / Or by your lovers you're being kept? / Go on, answer me dearest...

The Giraffe

Today you are gazing especially sadly, my love, / Your hands seem so slim when they weakly embrace your knees. / So, listen, far away, an exquisite giraffe / Is wandering near the lake Chad among other African beasts. / / Such slenderness, sweet bliss are lavishly given to him. / H...

The Giraffe

Today I see that your look is particularly sad, / And your hands are particularly fragile, clasped over your knees. / Just listen: far, far away, on Lake Chad / Roams a proud giraffe. / / He has been blessed with gracefulness and bliss, / His hide is decorated with a magical patter...

The Streetcar Gone Astray

I was walking along an unfamiliar street, / And suddenly heard a cawing of crows, / And resonant lutes, and distant rumbling, / - Before me a streetcar flew. / / How I leapt to its platform / Was a riddle to me, / Even in the light of day / It left a fiery trail in the air. ...


A queer and fearful question is tight, / Oppresses my soul and tosses: / Can one be alive if Atreus has died - / Has died on a bed of roses. / / All that we dreamed of and everywhere praised, / All our longing and fear - / Were fully reflected in those calm eyes, / As were in a glas...