«La noche del amor»: Dante Gabriel Rossetti; poema y análisis.
La noche del amor (Love's Nocturne) es un poema de amor del escritor inglés Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882), compuesto en 1854 y publicado en la antología de 1870: Poemas (Poems).
La noche del amor, uno de los mejores poemas de amor de Dante Rossetti, desarrolla un escenario típico de la poesía prerrafaelita; en este caso, una especie de monólogo donde un hombre que nunca se ha enamorado sueña vagamente con la posibilidad de que exista una mujer ideal para él.
Por otro lado, también es posible que La noche del amor haya sido dedicado a una mujer a la que Dante Gabriel Rossetti hubiese deseado acercarse, o quizás a una mujer que sí conoció, tanto en el amor, la pasión, el deseo, y también la desilusión. En estos términos es probable que aquella mujer fuese la modelo prerrafaelita Elizabeth Siddal.
En cualquier caso, La noche del amor, verdadero clásico entre los poemas de Dante Gabriel Rossetti, es también una pieza oscura, a tal punto que roza algunas de las principales características del romanticismo, entre ellas, la presencia inquietante del doppelgänger.
La noche del amor.
Love's Nocturne; Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
¡Amo de las Cortes Suspirantes,
Dónde se conjuran las formas del sueño!
¡Escuchad! Mi espíritu exhorta
Todos los poderes de tu feudo
En auxilio de mi Dama.
¿Qué respondes, oculto y altivo
Señor de las Cortes Invisibles?
Vaporosos, inabarcables,
Las Tierras del Sueño yacen en despojos de luz,
Vacías como cáscaras de aire.
¡De mis fantasías se me permite
Elegir un sueño y guiar su vuelo!
Conozco bien (y te conozco, doncella)
Lo que tus sueños deben decirte esta noche.
Allí los sueños son multitudes:
Algunos no esperarán hasta dormirse,
Profundo en el bosque de agosto;
Alguien mientras descansa tal vez
Caiga en el letargo del labor;
Interludios,
Algunos, con gravedad han de llorar.
Allí residen todas las fantasías de los poetas:
Las damas élficas bailan entre alados valles,
Ahogados en ráfagas lastimeras;
Allí se percibe el perfume, allí en círculos
Gira la espuma desconcertada de los manantiales;
Sirenas,
Vientos mareados sobre sus cabellos, cantando.
Un sólo sueño nupcial ha sido soñado en común,
Pobre éxtasis de la vigilia;
Visiones esquivas que hacen gemir
Al solitario en su cuarto natal;
Y que nosotros apenas vemos
A través de los postigos de la muerte,
Desconocidas.
Pero en mi propio dormir, yace
En una agradable forma plácida,
Radiante en sus ojos honorables,
Lámparas de su alma traslúcida:
Su mirada es el bien más amado,
Dulce y sabia,
Dónde el amor define su centro.
Me fue arrebatada, mis sueños persisten
En un trance pegajoso, y el cielo teme:
Cambiando senderos y caídas
En un fétido refugio cercano,
Miserables fantasmas que suspiran;
Temblando en sus cofres,
Mientras el funeral pasa de largo.
Maestro, se dice con verdad que,
Así como los ecos de las palabras
Traicionan sus secretos en las hendiduras,
Los cuerpos de los hombres viajan
Como sombras por playas sumergidas.
¿Son la esencia o la sombra
Las que habitan en aquellos salones?
¡Ah! Yo podría, por vuestra inmensa gracia
Que custodia la escalera del viento,
(La oscuridad y el aliento del espacio
Como aguas inciertas cubriendo todo)
Encontrar allí mi propia imagen,
Cara a cara,
Y desde allí hasta donde sea que ella esté.
No, yo no. Pero tu, Maestro,
En tu Reino de Sombras,
Convocad mi fantasma en esta hora:
Ofrecedme el sufrimiento del encuentro,
El placer de su rostro delicado,
Y que su frente
Sienta mi aliento perdido como una brisa suave.
Dónde se cultiva, la grácil primavera tiembla
En una silenciosa plegaria,
Íntima fuerza creciente,
El agua y la voz del viento son una,
Y comparten los ecos del sol.
Maestro, gentil como la primavera,
Dadme el canto y el lamento.
El canto dirá cuan alegre y fuerte
Es la noche en donde ella sueña,
El lamento será la tristeza aferrada a los labios,
La pena descarnada del día:
Serán como las melodías de la marea,
Lamento y canción,
Heraldos fríos que anhelan el verano.
No serán las plegarias de los que abandonan,
De los que eligen la pena sobre la fuente del amor,
No serán elogios por los dones del mundo,
Suspirados con exagerada ternura,
Dejad que llegue hasta ella con mi amor,
Que el dolor sea sólo mío, y en ella: recuerdo.
Donde sea que mis sueños caigan,
En la noche o en el día (dejad que le diga)
Siempre vivirás en el reluctante círculo
De los ángeles, en las horas de la calma.
Descorazonada, sin esperanzas en tu camino,
Descansa y convócame:
En mis ojos tu mirada siempre podrá soñar.
Si, este es mi amor vanidoso,
Vertido en una frágil canción
De esperanza y horror.
Tu eres el Amor,
Y yo sólo anhelo un acorde
Que agite tus sueños,
Busco tus ojos de acero,
Tus ojos de abismo.
Oh, Maestro, de rodillas os imploro:
¡Dejad que ella vuelva a sonreír!
Master of the murmuring courts
Where the shapes of sleep convene!-
Lo! my spirit here exhorts
All the powers of thy demesne
For their aid to woo my queen.
What reports
Yield thy jealous courts unseen?
Vaporous, unaccountable,
Dreamland lies forlorn of light,
Hollow like a breathing shell.
Ah! that from all dreams I might
Choose one dream and guide its flight!
I know well
What her sleep should tell to-night.
There the dreams are multitudes:
Some that will not wait for sleep,
Deep within the August woods;
Some that hum while rest may steep
Weary labour laid a-heap;
Interludes,
Some, of grievous moods that weep.
Poets' fancies all are there:
There the elf-girls flood with wings
Valleys full of plaintive air;
There breathe perfumes; there in rings
Whirl the foam-bewildered springs;
Siren there
Winds her dizzy hair and sings.
Thence the one dream mutually
Dreamed in bridal unison,
Less than waking ecstasy;
Half-formed visions that make moan
In the house of birth alone;
And what we
At death's wicket see, unknown.
But for mine own sleep, it lies
In one gracious form's control,
Fair with honourable eyes,
Lamps of a translucent soul:
O their glance is loftiest dole,
Sweet and wise,
Wherein Love descries his goal.
Reft of her, my dreams are all
Clammy trance that fears the sky:
Changing footpaths shift and fall;
From polluted coverts nigh,
Miserable phantoms sigh;
Quakes the pall,
And the funeral goes by.
Master, is it soothly said
That, as echoes of man's speech
Far in secret clefts are made,
So do all men's bodies reach
Shadows o'er thy sunken beach,-
Shape or shade
In those halls pourtrayed of each?
Ah! might I, by thy good grace
Groping in the windy stair,
(Darkness and the breath of space
Like loud waters everywhere)
Meeting mine own image there
Face to face,
Send it from that place to her!
Nay, not I; but oh! do thou,
Master, from thy shadowkind
Call my body's phantom now:
Bid it bear its face declin'd
Till its flight her slumbers find,
And her brow
Feel its presence bow like wind.
Where in groves the gracile Spring
Trembles, with mute orison
Confidently strengthening,
Water's voice and wind's as one
Shed an echo in the sun.
Soft as Spring,
Master, bid it sing and moan.
Song shall tell how glad and strong
Is the night she soothes alway;
Moan shall grieve with that parched tongue
Of the brazen hours of day:
Sounds as of the springtide they,
Moan and song,
While the chill months long for May.
Not the prayers which with all leave
The world's fluent woes prefer,--
Not the praise the world doth give,
Dulcet fulsome whisperer;--
Let it yield my love to her,
And achieve
Strength that shall not grieve or err.
Wheresoe'er my dreams befall,
Both at night-watch, (let it say,)
And where round the sundial
The reluctant hours of day,
Heartless, hopeless of their way,
Rest and call;--
There her glance doth fall and stay.
Suddenly her face is there:
So do mounting vapours wreathe
Subtle-scented transports where
The black firwood sets its teeth.
Part the boughs and look beneath,--
Lilies share
Secret waters there, and breathe.
Master, bid my shadow bend
Whispering thus till birth of light,
Lest new shapes that sleep may send
Scatter all its work to flight;--
Master, master of the night,
Bid it spend
Speech, song, prayer, and end aright.
Yet, ah me! if at her head
There another phantom lean
Murmuring o'er the fragrant bed,--
Ah! and if my spirit's queen
Smile those alien prayers between,--
Ah! poor shade!
Shall it strive, or fade unseen?
How should love's own messenger
Strive with love and be love's foe?
Master, nay! If thus, in her,
Sleep a wedded heart should show,--
Silent let mine image go,
Its old share
Of thy spell-bound air to know.
Like a vapour wan and mute,
Like a flame, so let it pass;
One low sigh across her lute,
One dull breath against her glass;
And to my sad soul, alas!
One salute
Cold as when Death's foot shall pass.
Then, too, let all hopes of mine,
All vain hopes by night and day,
Slowly at thy summoning sign
Rise up pallid and obey.
Dreams, if this is thus, were they:--
Be they thine,
And to dreamworld pine away.
Yet from old time, life, not death,
Master, in thy rule is rife:
Lo! through thee, with mingling breath,
Adam woke beside his wife.
O Love bring me so, for strife,
Force and faith,
Bring me so not death but life!
Yea, to Love himself is pour'd
This frail song of hope and fear.
Thou art Love, of one accord
With kind Sleep to bring her near,
Still-eyed, deep-eyed, ah how dear.
Master, Lord,
In her name implor'd, O hear!
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
Where the shapes of sleep convene!-
Lo! my spirit here exhorts
All the powers of thy demesne
For their aid to woo my queen.
What reports
Yield thy jealous courts unseen?
Vaporous, unaccountable,
Dreamland lies forlorn of light,
Hollow like a breathing shell.
Ah! that from all dreams I might
Choose one dream and guide its flight!
I know well
What her sleep should tell to-night.
There the dreams are multitudes:
Some that will not wait for sleep,
Deep within the August woods;
Some that hum while rest may steep
Weary labour laid a-heap;
Interludes,
Some, of grievous moods that weep.
Poets' fancies all are there:
There the elf-girls flood with wings
Valleys full of plaintive air;
There breathe perfumes; there in rings
Whirl the foam-bewildered springs;
Siren there
Winds her dizzy hair and sings.
Thence the one dream mutually
Dreamed in bridal unison,
Less than waking ecstasy;
Half-formed visions that make moan
In the house of birth alone;
And what we
At death's wicket see, unknown.
But for mine own sleep, it lies
In one gracious form's control,
Fair with honourable eyes,
Lamps of a translucent soul:
O their glance is loftiest dole,
Sweet and wise,
Wherein Love descries his goal.
Reft of her, my dreams are all
Clammy trance that fears the sky:
Changing footpaths shift and fall;
From polluted coverts nigh,
Miserable phantoms sigh;
Quakes the pall,
And the funeral goes by.
Master, is it soothly said
That, as echoes of man's speech
Far in secret clefts are made,
So do all men's bodies reach
Shadows o'er thy sunken beach,-
Shape or shade
In those halls pourtrayed of each?
Ah! might I, by thy good grace
Groping in the windy stair,
(Darkness and the breath of space
Like loud waters everywhere)
Meeting mine own image there
Face to face,
Send it from that place to her!
Nay, not I; but oh! do thou,
Master, from thy shadowkind
Call my body's phantom now:
Bid it bear its face declin'd
Till its flight her slumbers find,
And her brow
Feel its presence bow like wind.
Where in groves the gracile Spring
Trembles, with mute orison
Confidently strengthening,
Water's voice and wind's as one
Shed an echo in the sun.
Soft as Spring,
Master, bid it sing and moan.
Song shall tell how glad and strong
Is the night she soothes alway;
Moan shall grieve with that parched tongue
Of the brazen hours of day:
Sounds as of the springtide they,
Moan and song,
While the chill months long for May.
Not the prayers which with all leave
The world's fluent woes prefer,--
Not the praise the world doth give,
Dulcet fulsome whisperer;--
Let it yield my love to her,
And achieve
Strength that shall not grieve or err.
Wheresoe'er my dreams befall,
Both at night-watch, (let it say,)
And where round the sundial
The reluctant hours of day,
Heartless, hopeless of their way,
Rest and call;--
There her glance doth fall and stay.
Suddenly her face is there:
So do mounting vapours wreathe
Subtle-scented transports where
The black firwood sets its teeth.
Part the boughs and look beneath,--
Lilies share
Secret waters there, and breathe.
Master, bid my shadow bend
Whispering thus till birth of light,
Lest new shapes that sleep may send
Scatter all its work to flight;--
Master, master of the night,
Bid it spend
Speech, song, prayer, and end aright.
Yet, ah me! if at her head
There another phantom lean
Murmuring o'er the fragrant bed,--
Ah! and if my spirit's queen
Smile those alien prayers between,--
Ah! poor shade!
Shall it strive, or fade unseen?
How should love's own messenger
Strive with love and be love's foe?
Master, nay! If thus, in her,
Sleep a wedded heart should show,--
Silent let mine image go,
Its old share
Of thy spell-bound air to know.
Like a vapour wan and mute,
Like a flame, so let it pass;
One low sigh across her lute,
One dull breath against her glass;
And to my sad soul, alas!
One salute
Cold as when Death's foot shall pass.
Then, too, let all hopes of mine,
All vain hopes by night and day,
Slowly at thy summoning sign
Rise up pallid and obey.
Dreams, if this is thus, were they:--
Be they thine,
And to dreamworld pine away.
Yet from old time, life, not death,
Master, in thy rule is rife:
Lo! through thee, with mingling breath,
Adam woke beside his wife.
O Love bring me so, for strife,
Force and faith,
Bring me so not death but life!
Yea, to Love himself is pour'd
This frail song of hope and fear.
Thou art Love, of one accord
With kind Sleep to bring her near,
Still-eyed, deep-eyed, ah how dear.
Master, Lord,
In her name implor'd, O hear!
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
Más poemas góticos. I Poemas de Dante Rossetti.
Más literatura gótica:
- Dante Rossetti y Elizabeth Siddal: una historia de amor.
- Poemas para mujeres.
- Poemas victorianos.
- Poemas de amantes.
- Poemas de novios.
- Poemas ingleses.
- Poemas de la noche.
2 comentarios:
Me gusta mucho la selección de poemas de vuestro blog; ahora bien, siempre prefiero cuando ponéis el original al lado de la traducción.
Saludos
Gracias por el comentario, Mariko.
Es verdad, eso sería lo ideal, pero para no mezclar los idiomas de la página hemos preferido dejar nuestras traducciones, junto al título original del poema, para que los interesados puedan buscarlo con más facilidad.
Saludos.
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