ANOTHER POEM WRITTEN BY OSCAR CASTRO, A CHILEAN POET

WELCOME TO THIS POST!

FIRST, SOME LOVEY SCENERY FOR MY READERS.

CHILEAN COUNTRY SCENE.

Click to enlarge

Source: Iñi Piñi, CC BY SA 2.0. Flickr 

This is a FTSF (Finish the Sentence Friday) post for the corresponding Blog hop created by my blogging friends.

The prompt provided is:

“The best and worst parts of blogging are…”  and my answer is in the first paragraphs of this post.

MY IDEAS ON THE EXPERIENCE OF BLOGGING

Blogging is a fascinating enterprise which I’m delighted to be taking part in!

The best parts of Blogging are, to my mind – (1) the freedom which allows us to throw most of “the rules” out the window; (2) the fact that the standard of quality is defined by the blogger and the readers, not the moderators; (3) the flexibility in the length of a post which can be short, middling or long; (4) the speed with which it is possible to write, review, post and answer feedback; (5) the lack of formality in the writing style, which is usually very fluid: (6) Blogger communities are usually very lively, friendly and dynamic.

I think these are the most important “best parts”

The worst parts are, in my opinion – (1) the never ending need to learn about technical aspects, such as uploading photos, monetizing, making the posts visible to readers, constantly trying to increase views, and so on; (2) managing time constraints when combining blogging with other work activities; (3) the time and effort spent in researching for a blog on topics such as mine are.

And that’s about it!

The rest of this post is a good example of what I mean by “research”.

A BEAUTIFUL POEM BY OSCAR CASTRO, THE SECOND IN THIS SERIES OF CHILEAN POETRY

Oscar Castro was born in Rancagua in 1910. He grew to be a self educated person, a writer and a teacher.

He died in 1947 due to chronic ill health.

For a short introduction to his life and some details of his writings, I recommend my previous post on this link: Oscar Castro, a poet and a poem from Chile

For this present post, I chose the poem called Romance del Hombre Nocturno.

Here you will find: my very free translation of this lovely poem, the original Spanish version, and finally a video which interprets this same poem set to music and read by some famous Chilean actors, the Duvauchelle brothers.

MY FREE TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH

THE NOCTURNE MAN

My mare was slowly climbing

With firm bronze colored steps.

A night for crucifixes

lay over the hills.

The naked water was involved

In limpid conversations

With the crickets and the stones

And some fading songs.

“Night is a bad thing my friend,

And there are thieves up the hills”

¡Great old man! He would say this

Yonder in the barn field,

And there was concern reflected

In his quicksilver eyes.

But the shadows felt good

Full of glitters and scents

¿Fear? My mare was sure

And I had a revolver in my belt

And in my breast, the solid

Heart of a man.

But still, but still,

My hand trembled.

Four riders were approaching,

Slowly descending from the hillside.

I could see them outlined, black

Against the constellations above.

My mount raised her ears

Into two sharp points

And the ray of a bright star

Shimmered on my revolver.

¡Who goes there!

I saw them stop,

And my voice multiplied

Echoing on the mountain peaks

Like a coil of springs.

At that moment I was crossing

A narrow edged pass:

On my right, the abyss,

Dark like a slice of night;

In front of me, the riders;

On my left – a wall- the hillside.

I continued forwards in the shadows,

Towards the immovable outlines.

Once through the narrow pass,

I stumbled over their voices.

- Where is the friend heading?

-North to the next town

My elderly mother awaits me

And so do my younger brothers.

I left them on a day in March;

Five years have gone by since then.

My voice was strong and sure;

His was opaque and coppery

I saw their eyes glimmer

With the light of emotions.

-I will ride with our friend

Until he has crossed the hills.

Five horsemen rode on

Towards the constellations

Five riders descended the slopes

With firm bronze colored strides.

Four of them halted suddenly

The fifth continued northwards,

After clasping the outstretched hands

Of those four men.

Later on, the sky became lighter

With a yellow dawn.

Murmuring streams.

Early rising birds.

Close by, the maiten and the boldo;

In the distance, Rancagua and its towers;

Amongst the houses, my house,

With plum trees and grapevines

and my mother with her eyes

Like the oceans and the horizon!

To the rear, a tremendous memory

Of an outlaw who was a great man.

THE ORIGINAL SPANISH VERSION BY OSCAR CASTRO

 

ROMANCE DEL HOMBRE NOCTURNO – OSCAR CASTRO

Mi yegua subía lenta

Con firmes pasos de bronce.

La noche de crucifijos

fulgía sobre los montes

Andaba el agua desnuda

en claras conversaciones

Con los grillos y las piedras

y las huidas canciones

-”Es mala la noche amigo,

Y en el monte andan ladrones”

¡Buen viejo!, me lo decía

Allá en el campo de trojes

Y un sobresalto rondaba

Por sus pupilas de azogue.

Pero era buena la sombra

Madura de oros y olores

¿Miedo?, mi yegua era firme

Y yo llevaba un revolver en el cinto

Y en el pecho, un ancho

Corazón de hombre.

Sin embargo, sin embargo,

Mi mano sobresaltose.

Cuatro jinetes venían,

pausados bajando el monte.

Los vi recortarse, negros

Contra las constelaciones.

Mi bestia irguió las orejas

En agudos aguijones

Y la estría de un lucero

Rieló sobre mi revolver.

¡Quién va!

Los vi detenerse,

Y mi voz multiplicose

Rebotando en los picachos

Como en cojín de resortes.

Cruzaba en ese momento

Un paso de angostos bordes:

A la derecha, el abismos,

Tinta o residuo de noche;

Adelante, los jinetes;

A la izquierda – muro- el monte.

Seguí  avanzando en la sombra,

Hacia las sombras inmóviles.

Traspuesto el paso difícil,

Me tropecé con sus voces:

-          ¿A dónde marcha el amigo?

-          Al pueblo de más al norte

Me esperan mi vieja madre

Y mis hermanos menores.

Los dejé un día de marzo;

Cinco años van desde entonces.

Ancha mi vos y serena;

La suya opaca y de cobre

Miré brillar las pupilas

En un fulgor de emociones.

-  Acompañaré al amigo

Hasta que trasponga el monte.

Cinco jinetes tomaron

Rumbo a las constelaciones

Bajaron cinco jinetes

Con firmes pasos de bronce.

Cuatro pararon de pronto

Y el otro siguió hacia el norte,

Después de estrechar las manos

Tendidas de los cuatro hombres.

Clareó más tarde en el cielo.

Amanecer de limones.

Palabras de agua liviana.

Pájaros madrugadores.

Cerca, maitenes y boldos;

Lejos, Rancagua  y sus torres;

Y entre sus casas, mi casa,

Con ciruelos y parrones

¡y mi madre con sus ojos

De mares y horizontes!

Detrás el recuerdo grande

De un bandido que era un hombre.

FINALLY, THE VIDEO SHOWING CHILEAN SCENERY.

AND TWO MORE PHOTOS FROM CHILE 

 

Click to enlarge

 Source: pato novoa, CC BY 2.0. Flickr

Click to enlarge

Source; Pablo T, CC BY 2.0. Flickr

I hope you have enjoyed this post, it was really fun to write!

I did a lot of research for this!

See you on the next post!

© 2013  jveronr  (Joan Robertson)

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