un poema de Sarah Teasdale traduce Pablo Queralt

 

 

El amor del abuelo

 

 

Dijeron que me enviaba su amor,

pero no quisieron ponerlo en mis manos;

y cuando pregunte donde estaba,

dijeron que yo no podría entenderlo.  

 

Pensé que lo habrían escondido,

lo busqué todo el día,

y cuando se los dije al llegar la noche,

sonrieron y apartaron la mirada.  

 

Dicen que el amor es algo amable,

que jamás podré ver ni tocar.

Desee que me hubiera enviado otra cosa,

sus pastillas para la tos me gustaban dos veces más.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandfather's Love from Helen of Troy And Other Poems, 1911

They said he sent his love to me,
      They wouldn't put it in my hand,
And when I asked them where it was
      They said I couldn't understand.

I thought they must have hidden it,
      I hunted for it all the day,
And when I told them so at night
      They smiled and turned their heads away.

They say that love is something kind,
      That I can never see or touch.
I wish he'd sent me something else,
      I like his cough-drops twice as much.