DYLAN THOMAS (Gales, 1914-1953)
Being but men
Being but men, we walked into the trees
Afraid, letting our syllables be soft
For fear of waking the rooks,
For fear of coming
Noiselessly into a world of wings and cries.
If we were children we might climb,
Catch the rooks sleeping, and break no twig,
And, after the soft ascent,
Thrust out our heads above the branches
To wonder at the unfailing stars.
Out of confusion, as the way is,
And the wonder, that man knows,
Out of the chaos would come bliss.
That, then, is loveliness, we said,
Children in wonder watching the stars,
Afraid, letting our syllables be soft
For fear of waking the rooks,
For fear of coming
Noiselessly into a world of wings and cries.
If we were children we might climb,
Catch the rooks sleeping, and break no twig,
And, after the soft ascent,
Thrust out our heads above the branches
To wonder at the unfailing stars.
Out of confusion, as the way is,
And the wonder, that man knows,
Out of the chaos would come bliss.
That, then, is loveliness, we said,
Children in wonder watching the stars,
Is the aim and the end.
Being but men, we walked into the trees.
* * *
Being but men, we walked into the trees.
* * *
Siendo tan solo hombres
Siendo tan solo hombres, entramos en los árboles
temerosos, dejando a nuestras sílabas ser suaves
por miedo a despertar a los grajos,
por miedo a venir
silenciosos a un mundo de alas y llantos.
Si fuéramos niños podríamos escalar,
encontrar a los grajos mientras duermen y no romper una sola rama,
y, después del suave ascenso,
impulsar nuestras cabezas por encima de sus copas
para maravillarnos ante las estrellas constantes.
y el asombro, que el hombre conoce,
fuera del caos vendría a la bendición.
Eso, entonces, es la belleza, dijimos,
niños que miran las estrellas maravillados,
eso es la meta y el final.
Siendo tan solo hombres, entramos en los árboles.
Traducción: María González de León
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