«El ciervo oscuro»: Isabella Valancy Crawford; poema y análisis.
El ciervo oscuro (The Dark Stag) es un poema de la escritora canadiense Isabella Valancy Crawford (1846-1887), publicado de manera póstuma en la antología de 1904: Poemas selectos de Isabella Valancy Crawford (The Collected Poems of Isabella Valancy Crawford).
Si bien la autora se crió en Canadá, los mitos celtas de su Irlanda natal se perciben en cada uno de sus poemas sobre la naturaleza, y especialmente en El ciervo oscuro, uno de los más notables poemas de Isabella Valancy Crawford, donde podemos intuir la presencia de Cerunnos, el dios cornudo de los druidas.
Aquí, un ciervo oscuro es abatido en la penumbra del bosque. El cazador observa su última lucha, la búsqueda desesperada por encontrar un sitio apropiado para el descanso final. El universo es testigo de esa tragedia, y no será indiferente.
El ciervo oscuro.
The Dark Stag, Isabella Valancy Crawford (1850-1887)
Un ciervo asustado, bajo el gris azulado de la noche,
Reposa más allá de los oscuros pinos.
Detrás —a la distancia de una lámpara—
La flecha del cazador brilla:
Sus botas están manchadas de rojo,
Las ve mientras se inclina sobre el terreno,
Y desde los picos escondidos su odio vuela,
La pluma azul alza su cabeza en la niebla,
¡Bien podría huir de la furtiva noche!
La pálida, pálida luna, un delicado copo de nieve,
Corta los flancos de su refugio:
Derribando las estrellas que pasan,
Como el tañido silencioso de una campana de madera.
El viento levanta las hojas del suelo,
Silbando en el temblor de las cañas;
Su ronco palpitar agita el bosque,
Con gran clamor sobre la pista del acechado.
¡Rápido, rápido huye el oscuro ciervo!
¡Lejos! Bajo el copo delicado, muy lejos,
Yace herido sobre la llanura:
Su grito viaja en el viento nocturno,
Sus espesas lágrimas caen con la lluvia;
Como lirios pálidos, las nubes crecen blancas
Sobre el sendero umbrío;
En su desnudo nido en las alturas,
El águila de ojos rojos lo contempla;
Él se tambalea, se debate, tiembla en la noche.
¡El oscuro ciervo se funde con la bahía!
Sus pies caminan en las olas del espacio;
Sus astas suben y bajan en la sombra,
Ya no huye, tuerce su rostro aterciopelado
Hacia el cazador, el Sol;
Él sella los lirios brumosos, y en lo alto
Sus cuernos llenan el oeste.
La cigüeña navega a través del cielo,
Los picos lloran al verlo morir,
El viento se detuvo en su pecho.
El rugido del lago quiebra las olas
Sumergiendo sus guerreros de plata;
Como la bóveda de una cueva de cristal
El duro, fiero Muskallunge,
Deslumbra la costa con rojos destellos,
Los caídos fuegos del concilio se encienden;
El avetoro regaña en el aire,
El pato salvaje se zambulle donde
Las espigas famélicas descansan.
Rayo tras rayo el sol desaparece;
Abandonando la costilla roja del ciervo,
Su pecho, almohada viva del viento, sangra;
Él tropieza sobre la marea,
Siente las hambrientas olas del espacio
Rugiendo en la cima del mundo.
Los blancos copos cubren su rostro,
Más rápidos que el sol en su feroz carrera,
Perforando su corazón cálido.
Sus astas caen, una vez más olfatea
La espuma de los sabuesos del día;
La sangre sobre su crin azul se quema,
Tiñendo de rojo la alfombra de flores;
Las cuernos hieren las olas —llorando,
El viento en su pecho se demora—
Él se hunde en el espacio, rojo resplandece el cielo,
La tierra húmeda se torna púrpura mientras muere:
El fuerte y oscuro ciervo.
A startled stag, the blue-grey Night,
Leaps down beyond black pines.
Behind —a length of yellow light—
The hunter's arrow shines:
His moccasins are stained with red,
He bends upon his knee,
From covering peaks his shafts are sped,
The blue mists plume his mighty head,—
Well may the swift Night flee!
The pale, pale Moon, a snow-white doe,
Bounds by his dappled flank:
They beat the stars down as they go,
Like wood-bells growing rank.
The winds lift dewlaps from the ground,
Leap from the quaking reeds;
Their hoarse bays shake the forests round,
With keen cries on the track they bound,—
Swift, swift the dark stag speeds!
Away! his white doe, far behind,
Lies wounded on the plain;
Yells at his flank the nimblest wind,
His large tears fall in rain;
Like lily-pads, small clouds grow white
About his darkling way;
From his bald nest upon the height
The red-eyed eagle sees his flight;
He falters, turns, the antlered Night,--
The dark stag stands at bay!
His feet are in the waves of space;
His antlers broad and dun
He lowers; he turns his velvet face
To front the hunter, Sun;
He stamps the lilied clouds, and high
His branches fill the west.
The lean stork sails across the sky,
The shy loon shrieks to see him die,
The winds leap at his breast.
Roar the rent lakes as thro' the wave
Their silver warriors plunge,
As vaults from core of crystal cave
The strong, fierce muskallunge;
Red torches of the sumach glare,
Fall's council-fires are lit;
The bittern, squaw-like, scolds the air;
The wild duck splashes loudly where
The rustling rice-spears knit.
Shaft after shaft the red Sun speeds:
Rent the stag's dappled side,
His breast, fanged by the shrill winds, bleeds,
He staggers on the tide;
He feels the hungry waves of space
Rush at him high and blue;
Their white spray smites his dusky face,
Swifter the Sun's fierce arrows race
And pierce his stout heart thro'.
His antlers fall; once more he spurns
The hoarse hounds of the day;
His blood upon the crisp blue burns,
Reddens the mounting spray;
His branches smite the wave —with cries
The loud winds pause and flag—
He sinks in space--red glow the skies,
The brown earth crimsons as he dies,
The strong and dusky stag.
Isabella Valancy Crawford (1850-1887)
Leaps down beyond black pines.
Behind —a length of yellow light—
The hunter's arrow shines:
His moccasins are stained with red,
He bends upon his knee,
From covering peaks his shafts are sped,
The blue mists plume his mighty head,—
Well may the swift Night flee!
The pale, pale Moon, a snow-white doe,
Bounds by his dappled flank:
They beat the stars down as they go,
Like wood-bells growing rank.
The winds lift dewlaps from the ground,
Leap from the quaking reeds;
Their hoarse bays shake the forests round,
With keen cries on the track they bound,—
Swift, swift the dark stag speeds!
Away! his white doe, far behind,
Lies wounded on the plain;
Yells at his flank the nimblest wind,
His large tears fall in rain;
Like lily-pads, small clouds grow white
About his darkling way;
From his bald nest upon the height
The red-eyed eagle sees his flight;
He falters, turns, the antlered Night,--
The dark stag stands at bay!
His feet are in the waves of space;
His antlers broad and dun
He lowers; he turns his velvet face
To front the hunter, Sun;
He stamps the lilied clouds, and high
His branches fill the west.
The lean stork sails across the sky,
The shy loon shrieks to see him die,
The winds leap at his breast.
Roar the rent lakes as thro' the wave
Their silver warriors plunge,
As vaults from core of crystal cave
The strong, fierce muskallunge;
Red torches of the sumach glare,
Fall's council-fires are lit;
The bittern, squaw-like, scolds the air;
The wild duck splashes loudly where
The rustling rice-spears knit.
Shaft after shaft the red Sun speeds:
Rent the stag's dappled side,
His breast, fanged by the shrill winds, bleeds,
He staggers on the tide;
He feels the hungry waves of space
Rush at him high and blue;
Their white spray smites his dusky face,
Swifter the Sun's fierce arrows race
And pierce his stout heart thro'.
His antlers fall; once more he spurns
The hoarse hounds of the day;
His blood upon the crisp blue burns,
Reddens the mounting spray;
His branches smite the wave —with cries
The loud winds pause and flag—
He sinks in space--red glow the skies,
The brown earth crimsons as he dies,
The strong and dusky stag.
Isabella Valancy Crawford (1850-1887)
Poemas góticos. I Poemas de Isabella Valancy Crawford.
Más literatura gótica:
- Poemas de vida.
- Poemas celtas.
- Poemas victorianos.
- Poemas oscuros.
- Poemas de mujeres.
- Poemas irlandeses.
1 comentarios:
No puedo decir el motivo; lo desconozco; ¿Porque esta poesia seme ha clavado en lo mas profundo del alma, y parece no soltarse nunca..?
Preciosos versos..
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