W.B. Yeats. 1865. - 1939. He wishes his Beloved were Dead / Desea que su amada estuviera muerta

He wishes his Beloved were Dead


Were you but lying cold and dead,

And lights were paling out of the West,

You would come hither, and bend your head,

And I would lay my head on your breast;

And you would murmur tender words,

Forgiving me, because you were dead:

Nor would you rise and hasten away,

Though you have the will of wild birds,

But know your hair was bound and wound

About the stars and moon and sun:

O would, beloved, that you lay

Under the dock-leaves in the ground,

While lights were paling one by one.




El desea que su Amada estuviera muerta


Si tan solo yacieras fría y muerta, 

Mientras la luz palidece al Oeste 

Aquí te acercarías ,tu cabeza

inclinarías dulce y suavemente

yo apoyaría la mía en tu pecho; 

tiernas palabras me susurrarías ,

Perdonándome, porque estabas muerta:

No te levantarían ni te irías ,

Precipitademente,ni de prisa

Aunque como los pájaros salvajes 

Adónde quisieras podrías volar 

Pero tu hermoso pelo bien lo sabes 

Está enredado y atado alrededor

De la luna ,del sol , de las estrellas

Desearía amada que yacieras

Bajo las acederas en la tierra

Mientras las luces leves palidecen .