William Dunbar
William Dunbar fue un destacado poeta o makar [suerte de bardo o poeta] escocés de los siglos XV y XVI. Sus poemas muestran una miríada de estilos literarios, y es buen poeta explorar entre los anteriores a Shakespeare. Hemos incluido el texto original del inglés medio con una versión modernizada para comparar). Su poesía puede servir como puente entre el inglés medio, difícil de leer, y la poesía prerrenacentista, que es más asequible. Estudiar sus poemas y léxico te abrirá la puerta para leer textos más antiguos, como los de Chaucer. Vale.
Una Meditación en Invierno
En estos días oscuros y nubosos,
cuando el cielo entero se viste negro
con vapores, nubes y climas brumosos;
la naturaleza me niega cada deleite
de las canciones, baladas y poemas.
Cuando la noche extiende sus horas
con viento, granizo y lluvias fuertes,
mi espíritu lánguido busca donde guarecerse;
mi corazón, por su languidez, se entristece
por falta del verano y sus flores.
Camino, me inquieto, dormir no podré,
estoy vejado con una cogitación pesada.
Contemplo este mundo entero,
y aún me quedo con la duda,
por más remedio que haya buscado.
Estoy asaltado por cada flanco.
La Desesperación me sigue diciendo: «con el tiempo
provee y consíguete algo con que vivir,
si no, te quedarás con grandes problemas e
infortunio en esta corte [de la vida]».
Luego la Paciencia me dice: «no tengas miedo,
mantén firmes la Esperanza y la Verdad contigo,
y deja que la Fortuna lleve a cabo sus deseos,
contra la cual ninguna razón pueda mitigar,
hasta que aquel reloj de arena se termine.
Y todavía me dice la Paciencia al oído:
«¿Por qué retienes tu voluntad,
o desear no tener espacio,
Vos atendiendo a otro sitio,
un viaje que ocurre cada día?
Y luego me dice la Vejez: «amigo mío, ven acá,
no seas distante, te lo pido:
ven, hermano, toma mi mano.
Te es menester que ponderes
todo el tiempo que pasaste acá.
Luego la Muerte abre bien sus portones,
diciéndome: «estos portones abiertos te esperarán;
aunque no fueras tan atrevido,
bajo este limen te inclinarás,
no hay otra manera».
Por miedo de este día, me afeblezco;
ningún oro en cofre, ni vino en copa,
ninguna belleza femenina, ni la alegría de amor
me dejarán de pensar en ello,
por muy bien que cene o beba.
Mas cuando la noche comienza a acortarse,
da algo de solaz a mi espíritu
oprimido por las lluvias.
¡Ven, verano jocundo, con tus flores,
para que pueda irme con algún deleite!
William Dunbar
A Meditation in Winter
(Texto original en inglés medio)
Into thir dirk and drublie dayis
Quhone sabill all the hevin arrayis
With mystie vapouris, cluddis, and skyis,
Nature all curage me denyis
Of sangis, ballattis, and of playis.
Quhone that the nycht dois lenthin houris
With wind, with haill, and havy schouris,
My dule spreit dois lurk for schoir;
My hairt for langour dois forloir
For laik of Symmer with his flouris.
I walk, I turne, sleip may I nocht,
I vexit am with havie thocht.
This warld all ovir I cast about,
And ay the mair I am in dout,
The mair that I remeid have socht.
I am assayit on everie syde.
Despair sayis ay, "In tyme provyde
And get sumthing quhairon to leif,
Or with grit trouble and mischeif
Thow sall into this court abyd."
Than Patience sayis, "Be not agast;
Hald Hoip and Treuthe within thee fast,
And lat Fortoun wirk furthe hir rage,
Quhome that no rasoun may assuage
Quhill that hir glas be run and past."
And Prudence in my eir sayis ay,
"Quhy wald thow hald that will away?
Or craif that thow may have no space,
Thow tending to aneuther place,
A journay going everie day?"
And than sayis Age, "My freind, cum neir,
And be not strange, I thee requeir:
Cum, brodir, by the hand me tak.
Remember thow hes compt to mak
Of all thi tyme thow spendit heir."
Syne Deid castis upe his gettis wyd
Saying, "Thir oppin sall thee abyd;
Albeid that thow wer never sa stout,
Undir this lyntall sall thow lowt -
Thair is nane uther way besyde."
For feir of this all day I drowp.
No gold in kist nor wyne in cowp,
No ladeis bewtie nor luiffis blys
May lat me to remember this,
How glaid that ever I dyne or sowp.
Yit quhone the nycht begynnis to schort,
It dois my spreit sum pairt confort
Of thocht oppressit with the schowris.
Cum, lustie Symmer, with thi flowris,
That I may leif in sum disport.
(edición modernizada)
William Dunbar
A Meditation in Winter
Into these dark and drubly[1] days
When sable all the heaven arrays
With misty vapours, clouds, and skies,
Nature all pleasure[2] me denies
Of songs, ballads, and of poems[3].
When that the night does lengthen hours
With wind, with hail, and heavy showers,
My dull spirit does lurk for cover;
My heart for languor does [become] forlorn
For lack of Summer, with its flowers.
I walk, I turn, sleep may I not,
I vexed am with heavy thought.
This world all over I cast about[4],
And still more[5] I am in doubt,
The more that I remedy have sought.
I am assailed on every side.
Despair says ay, "In time provide
And get something with which[6] to live,
Or with great trouble and misfortune
Thou shall[7] into this court abide".
Then Patience says, "Be not aghast;
Keep Hope and Truth within thee fast,
And let Fortune work forth her rage[8],
Whom that no reason may assuage
Until that hourglass be run and past."
And Prudence in my ear says still,
"Why would thou hold that will away?
Or crave that thou may have no space,
Thou tending to another place,
A journey going every day?"
And then says Age, "My friend, come near,
And be not strange, I thee require:
Come, brother, by the hand me take.
Remember thou has reckoning[9] to make
Of all thy time thou spent here".
Then[10] Death casts up his gates wide
Saying, "These open shall thee abide;
Albeit that thou were never so bold[11],
Under this lintel shall thou bow[12] -
There is no other way beside".
For fear of this all day I droop[13].
No gold in chest nor wine in cup,
No lady’s beauty nor love’s bliss
May stop me from thinking[14],
However well that I dine or sup.
Yet when the night begins to shorten,
It does my spirit some part comfort
Of thought oppressed with the showers.
Come, joyous[15] Summer, with thy flowers,
That I may leave in some enjoyment[16].
[1] «drubly»: dark, turbid, overcast.
[2] In the original, «curage» [courage], in the sense of inclination or desire.
[3] In the original, «playis» [plays], in the sense of poetic works.
[4] «I cast about»: I contemplate, I consider.
[5] In the original, «ay the mair», lit. “forever the more”.
[6] In the original, «quhairon», on which/with which.
[7] «sall» in the original.
[8] rage in the sense of passion or desire; it held this meaning up until the time of Shakespeare.
[9] In the original «compt», reckoning, account. Was used by Shakespeare, in Macbeth.
[10] In the original, «syne», from Middle English syne, a form of sithen and this from Old English siþþan. Still used in Northern England and Scotland.
[11] In the original, «stout», meaning bold or haughty in Dunbar’s day.
[12] In the original, «lowt» [louted], a now archaic verb meaning to bow down. Richard Burton’s translation of The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night, from 1885, is probably one of last occurrences of it in English literature.
[13] «I droop»: I flag.
[14] The original verse, May let me to remember this.
[15] In the original, «lustie», [lusty].
[16] In the original, «disport», enjoyment, recreation.
Galería:
Portada de The Goldyn Targe [La Adarga Áurea], en la edición de los impresores Chepman & Myllar, 1508.
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