Riscar d’abril
Si dacuando fui a ver una bendición nel aire
yelo agora nesti
día tempranu y apacible,
nel que verde llimón la mañana vaporosa gotia
lluz moyada na
polvorea del mio güeyu.
Piel roto de la pómpara del azul, envolubra’l cielu
yerbatos de lluz
cálida nos que cada raíz y tueru
chispia con un verde empapáu, y el mundu enteru
rezuma col mugor del veranu nel so brotu.
Si daqué vez escuché una bendición ye aende
onde páxaros nos
árboles, que son báramos y sombres,
chisquen coles sos escondíes esnales y gotes de soníu
ruempen nos mios
oyíos les sos crestes d’aire palpitante.
Puru na ñublina dilátase’l sol esmeralda,
los llabios de
los gorriones caten les piedres mofoses,
mientres, blanca como l’agua, una moza nel llagu
baña la so mano
verde ente un garapiellu de cisnes.
Agora, cuando arde la mecha afumadora del almendru
pingando
lluminaries que prenden la herba al treslluz;
agora, cuando’l mio sangre ruino esguila per segunda vez,
si dacuando
benditu foi’l mundu, agora ye.
If ever I saw blessing in the air
I see it now in
this still early day
Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips
Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye.
Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round
Weeds of warm
light whose every root and rod
Splutters with soapy green, and all the world
Sweats with the
bead of summer in its bud.
If ever I herad blessing it is there
Where birds in
trees that shoals and shadows are
Splash with their hidden wings and drops of sound
Break on my ears
their crests of throbbing air.
Pure in the haze the esmerald sun dilates,
The lips of
sparrows milk the mossy stones,
While white as water by the lake a girl
Swims her green
hand among the gathered swans.
Now, as the almond burns its smoking wick,
Dropping small
flames to light the candled grass;
Now, as my low blood scales its second chance,
If ever world
were blessed, now it is.
Alun Lewis (Gales,1915 -Arakan, Birmania, 1944)
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