BLACKWELL FAMILY SUBJECT FILE Spanish-American Poems - Translations by Alice S. BlackwellAlice Stone Blackwell Poetry and translations No........................................ ........................................................................ STENOGRAPHER ________ ________ From....................................................19 To..........................................................19The Mass at Dawn, 137 Urbine Do you know it? It is a story With which mothers amuse Their children, in the cold Sad nights of winter While that vagrant, The wind, whistles in the streets His wailful mournful ballads And invisible deft hands Drum on all The bedimmed window-panes. Do you wish to hear it? Well then, look at me Deeply; let flash In your pupils of onyx The sands of diamond That are kindled in your eyes When you wish to dazzle me. O verses! ungrateful birds! Start again on your journey.My spring has come again Open your blue wings And build your nests in my lyrics poems romantic songs [In my] Literally [#]2 [In the long, long ago] [Once upon a time] Many years ago, centuries ago That ruined church Resembled at [at] distance A fancy caprice of the mists Hanging from the trees. Seen from afar From [the] a distance, it was a mass Shapeless; but on coming nearer Clearly were seen Domes, towers, architrave A portico falling to pieces Grifos endriagos, [ach] arcangeles archangels (ornaments) And in a wonderful equilibrium Rows of columns [on] in the air. And [fre] fragments of walls like tattered sails butting the distant And blue [space] (at mos phere) … In that glade/clearing of the wood Leprous, crumbling The dumb and gloomy church Was meditating - The diamonds Of your pupils flash; Do you encourage me? All right; let them flash O romantic dreamer girl! - [In the long, long age] Once upon a time Many years ago, centuries ago, ...3. But as there is no sadness Without comfort, the gigantic Sad & silent ruin Had enjoyment in its solitude Every morning - Would you believe it! - In the At the appearing of the dazzling First gleam bud of virgin light From the depth of lapis lazuli [of the hor] Of the horizon, there came out From the [frue??] and architraves Of the gothic belfry, From the angels' wings From the chiseled walls, From the niche of the images, The birds, in flocks Twittering and singing And when the sun kindled Its living triumphal arches Behind the dim mountains And the mists of the Landscape In the broken rows of columns On the twisted pillars On the broken truncated spires, On the recesses of the aisles Shone/Flashed - made of atoms Restless and scintillating Subtle games of gold Like tatters/rags/fragments of [fel??] shawls. 4. Ah! The church is not deserted There are believers/worshipers as before; Don't yo see how many talkative Swallows there are in the transept? (ábside) They are the nuns of this temple The song-sparrows are the monks. On the [wrattis??] of stone There are many nests And there come forth From the dark openings (among the branches) In the curtains of foliage The purple campamillas (morning glories?)The wild Calendulas The jacinths [of] (jacintos) of alabaster The red tulips The [wild] desires of the fields And, embroidering the [curtain] drapery Here & there - spots of [scarlet] crimson/purpura The myrtles/mirtos color of blood And the velvets of the mosses Greenish black and of changing/changefull hues, [Festo??] the countours/outlines/edge With Arabian tapestries That [look like] seem to [me] be torn By the movements of the wind Into pierced rosettes - (rosetones) And immense Trefoils. Ah! The church is not deserted There are worshipers as [of] before!It is the mass of the flowers; Don't you see how the rose vines Upon the rough church-steps Spread their branches? They climb, they climb in a [mass] crowd tumultuously They are early worshippers. Religious peasant [folk/women] flowers They are going to the Temple - It is already [too] very late! The violets have reached UP to the choir, & swinging They make of every carolla A pregnant censer The pinks have erected Their branches/blossoms (pompons) in legions phalanxes The ortigas ornament The sacred place (ara) of the alters And the poppy that so much Cares/Takes care for the satin of its chalice Peeps among the thorny Labyrinth of the thorn bushes (Zarzales) It is the mass of the flowers... There is a procession; a swarm Iridescent, restless, Of vagrant [tiger flies] dragon flies, The [grass] herbage, minute & green, Stoops...The birds officiate... Ah, the church is not deserted, There are worshippers as before. Sadness finds comfort; And that gigantic ruin, Full of old memories And of cultural/eternal/unending solitude Meditates; - O [Mother] Nature Thou art a mother, a good mother! 5. But how sad though appearest, Ruined tempole, in the evenings/at evening! When the birds are asleep. The flowers close their cups/chalicis And black parasites Of the domes, painting themselves Against the West [look like] Immovable, straght, large, look like Funeral [aigrettes] plumes Of giants' helmets! Long, horizontal & weak Weary of the journey Like a golden arrow Comes to fasten one instant On the cross of the belfry Which opens its arms to the A ray; the last breath Of the dying light! Come again, as always, cold Stealthy, impalpable, O darkness shadows of night, the silent, The traitorous, the constant!Come again! And the sad church Meditates: "O God! How the stars Burn! What unending Effungence of diamonds! [It] Space is a blazing chapel... How many millions Of lamps in the sky! What transparency in the air! Ah! If only one star would come To fasten/nail itself in my shadows Ah! if its tremulous brightness Would [?] illuminate my shadows!" 6. One night in December... How did it happen? Nobody knows... Cold night, so very cold, so very cold That in the [?] radiant heavens The stars scattered Like a rain of orange blossoms Trembled...And he came aloneSad and alone, the pilgrim/traveler Between the acanthus leaves of a capital (Espino) Which, being upset Upon the herbage of the ground, Was a vase of foliage, He placed the knotty staff; Then he went forward, He ascended the stairs, Crossed the parties. The birds Whispered "Who is coming? Is it a saint? Is it an image Fallen from its niche? No, it is a man." The traveler/pilgrim Vanished at last in the depths Of the impalpable shadows. 7. Suddenly the temple creaked And fugitive flashes (lightnings)Crossed the shade, like Luminous banners. And the miracle was performed/took place! The portico lifted itself, severe & triumphant, The walls were completed, The pillars erected themselves And the archer [met in a] embraced each other And the aisles met in a curve. The majestic architecture, Slender, elegant, airy, In a glorious ascension [Began to uplift itself] Was rising, rising Until it nailed its spires [On] To the [sapplire?]! - Not one detail Was lost; neither saints, nor kings, Nor the crystals of the [agri??] window Nor the leaves of the wreaths Nor the lacework of the walls Nor the edges of the stonesNor the veins of the marbles, Even the rusty machinery Of the clock slowly & gravely, Began to follow the time, Grain by grain, instant by instant 8. How much light in the carved Chanal! … What! Is someone coming? At a distance, a path (as where water has been sprinkled) Of torches floods/inundates the vally. And in the thick, deep wood Here & there, amid the trees, Red & brilliant flames [begin to ape] Begin to [appear] peck/sprinkle the darkness. Everything is alive; the bell Swings in the air... Come, souls in pain that permit rest The mass is going to begin! And in litters, on horseback, In great numbers; from every direction/where Arrive nobles & plebeians, The princesses, the [fa] princes/infants, Laborers & peasants The bishops, the Abbots. They ascend the stairs They cross the Chancel; they invade [They invade] the temple...the [?] Of the earnest multitude are heard. They wish to [go] get in, & it is not possible For them to [pent] penetrate; there is no room. And inside... how many tapers! Radiant constellations That light of the arabesques! They turn the alters to tinder They put yellow fringes In masses on the columns And they incrust with jewelry The ornaments of the aisles. The silver chandeliers Flash...How many masses/bursts Of unexpected effulgenses/splendors [blind one] Blind one around the ábside! What vivid tapestries On the golden railings! What flowery adornments! What hues! What contrasts! And opened on the [lecturns (?)] book-rests (atriles) How whiten the missals! The crowd [moves] stirs, Moves, waves, & struggles Like the waters of a river Which fill their narrow bed And desperately boil Until they leap over the Margins Everything shines & glitters;The silk of the (antique) skirts (briales) The brocade of the canopies The gold of the necklaces The dalmatics of crimson The brooches of dreamwords The velvet of the dark Prie-diems , and the garment Embroidered and heraldic As the army of sages. The procession goes forward The thick waxes torches cross slowly The cursers turn overThe smoke embroiders the air The organ [?] breaks forth in sonorous Celestial harmonies .... The crowd kneels; Bishops + abbots pass on And in the belfry sounds plays The jubilant, the untiring one; Come, [souls in] restless ghosts! The mass is going to end! 9 The cock crows! Dawn arose And in the rain of orange blossoms Disappeared in the blue Inviolate brightness! Zepher arrived, the herald He who awakens the birds He who spreads on the [?] grass Handfuls of diamonds. And the miracle of the dreams The elegant orfèvrerie (orfebreria) Sinks at one blow Breaks, flies, falls, If effaced (esfuma), vanishes Is bottes out and comes to naught. And on the broken rows of columns On the twisted pillars On the broken sphere (needles) In the recesses of the aisles Shower mad of atoms Restless and scintillating- Suble (sp?) gauges of gold Like fragments of filmy shawls. 10. When the sun trace marked in the sky It’s vivid triumphal arches Behind the dark mountains And the mists of the landscape There came from the church the sad Mysterious pilgrim He took in his hands the dry Knotty staff for the journey And went away amid the mists And was lost among the trees. The ruin was left alone With its flowers and its birds... One December night... How did it happen? Nobody knows! 11. A fairy tale of magic! Simple story Of the mediaeval ages! You are like my life, You resemble the happenings Of my love! ...so many Common place vulgar histories resemble you! O my romantic one! Look at me Deeply: let the diamond sands Flash in thy pupils of onyx!Did you know it? Do you like it? Have I told it well? ..Well give me Your hands, I want to hold them An instant, only an instant! I feel myself happy when You applaud me with your gaze. Tell me, is it true that in ruins Is your heart? That it does not beat? That the angels have fallen? And that the memories sing Sometimes - faithful birds - And that the withered flowers Of your tenderness open When in your clouded memory Shines the sun of other ages/epochs/times? My love arrived; the wonder-worker, The good magician, the necromances, As that temple. Was falling The evening of woes. He approached, sad and weary,The journey had been so painful! And in the midst of the ruins He cried: “Let the aisles arise! Let the candles flame! Let the altars be adorned! Heart, live and throb! I am he whom you were waiting for; Love me! See: tumultuously in a crowd arrive, Weary, full of eager earnestness Woful Ghosts (souls in pain) Who arise from their sepulchre - Ambitious, hopes, Dreams, longings, The most noble, the richest, The most beautiful, the greatest Fantastic dreams - the princesses - And the dreams - the pages O beautiful temple! To the incantation spell[oh] my desires, arise! My happiness invokes thee The day is going to break...It is very late... And my love, the miracle-worker, Calls and nobody answers... Knocks And he kneels... And the miracle is not wrought. Do you remember when we sat here first Beside this lake, beneath these trees that sway Swiftly Time passes over us in his flight Two years have come and vanished since [that] There too ‘‘twas autumn, smiling, beautiful An autumn afternoon, like this we see And gentle breezes then made tremulous The yellow leaves that lingered on the tree In the same way the waters of the lake Reflected in their depths the pure blue skyAnd yonder boat was rocking them as now Dreaming upon the water silently But then in thought above could I enjoy The heaven that now in very truth is mine, What now is mine indeed, my heavenly blue It was not then permitted to my love On your sweet sweet lips to press an Ardent kiss. A kiss divine. Two years have fled since then! Ah, sure that day Full many a thing away from me twice [bare?] But i have no complaint to make of fate Much the [???] took away, he brought me more. He brought me you, the string of shining pearls Of my wild hopes yes, you are mine today You for whose sake I would a thousand times Eternal joys give up and fling away. Ah, let us linger yet, my little wife! Stay by my side, my reverie to bless! Here where I felt so sad, now let me dream O’er my immeasurable happiness!The smiling autumn sun [?] the earth below With mild and tender beam smiles looks down the while So on her infant as it falls asleep A loving mother gazes with a smile The autumn days are with us once again Autumn is here! Yes, it has c9me again And beautiful as ever to my eyes God knows the reason why, but in my heart The autumn days I always love and prize Upon the hilltop [?] I sit me down From [?] let my gaze roam far around I listen to the leaves that from the trees Are dropping with a low and gentle sound. [?]Falling asleep, not dying is the Earth In mellow autumn, with its silence deep. And even from her eyes one may perceive [AA] She is not ill, but only full of sleep [longs to sleep] Falling asleep, not dying is the earth, In very truth, in [?] days, so calm + still And even by [from] her eyes, one may perceive that she is only [?], not ill. She has but taken off her rich attire Undressing slowly, with out haste or pain She will reclothe herself, when [?] what time her day [?] when [?] the spring returned again Sleep on, O Nature, fair + beautiful Until the morn, sleep on + take your rest And in your slumber dream of all the things that in your waking hours you love the best! Just with a finger's tip I touch my lyre Softly I play, scarce louder than a sigh [The music] So that my gently slow & melancholy song Sounds on the still air like your lullaby. My love, my sweetheart, by my side sit down here by me in silence Sit silently beside me for my sake Until [w] my song shall pass away & die As dies the whispering wind upon a lake And when you kiss me, angel of my heart, Press your lips gently, slowly upon mine! Oh, let us not by sudden word or sound Wake sleeping Nature from her dream divine!