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la poeta de la ignorancia

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Tal vez la tierra flote,

no lo sé.

Tal vez las estrellas sean figuritas de papel

cortadas por una tijera gigante,

no lo sé.

Tal vez la luna es una lágrima congelada,

no lo sé.

Tal vez Dios sea una voz profunda

que un sordo oye,

no lo sé.

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Tal vez no soy ninguna.

Es cierto, tengo un cuerpo

y no puedo escaparme de el.

Me encantaría volar lejos de mi cabeza,

pero sobre eso no hay discusión.

Está escrito en la tabla del destino

que permanezca acá, metida en esta forma humana.

Siendo ese el asunto,

quiero llamar la atención sobre mi problema.

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Dentro de mí hay un animal

que me agarra el corazón,

un enorme cangrejo.

Los médicos de Boston

metieron mano.

Probaron con escalpelos,

agujas, gases venenosos y todo eso.

El cangrejo persiste.

Es un gran peso.

Yo trato de olvidarlo, me ocupo de mis cosas,

cocino el brócoli, abro libros cerrados,

me cepillo los dientes, me ato los zapatos.

Probé con la plegaria,

pero cuanto más rezo más aprieta el cangrejo

y el dolor aumenta.

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Una vez soñé,

tal vez fue un sueño,

que el cangrejo representaba mi ignorancia de Dios.

Pero ¿quién soy yo para creer en los sueños?
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The Poet Of Ignorance
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Perhaps the earth is floating,

I do not know.

Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups

made by some giant scissors,

I do not know.

Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,

I do not know.

Perhaps God is only a deep voice

heard by the deaf,

I do not know.

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Perhaps I am no one.

True, I have a body

and I cannot escape from it.

I would like to fly out of my head,

but that is out of the question.

It is written on the tablet of destiny

that I am stuck here in this human form.

That being the case

I would like to call attention to my problem.

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There is an animal inside me,

clutching fast to my heart,

a huge crab.

The doctors of Boston

have thrown up their hands.

They have tried scalpels,

needles, poison gasses and the like.

The crab remains.

It is a great weight.

I try to forget it, go about my business,

cook the broccoli, open the shut books,

brush my teeth and tie my shoes.

I have tried prayer

but as I pray the crab grips harder

and the pain enlarges.

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I had a dream once, 

perhaps it was a dream,

that the crab was my ignorance of God.

But who am I to believe in dreams?

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Anne Sexton

Versión: Isaías Garde

del blog Zoon Phonanta

[zoonphonanta.blogspot]

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