«A la oscuridad»: Clark Ashton Smith; poema y análisis.
A la oscuridad (To the Darkness) es un poema maldito del escritor norteamericano Clark Ashton Smith (1893-1961), publicado originalmente en la antología de 1912: El caminante estelar y otros poemas (The Star-Treader and Other Poems), y luego reeditado en la colección de 1918: Odas y sonetos (Odes and Sonnets).
A la oscuridad, uno de los grandes poemas de Clark Ashton Smith, nos introduce en el universo del Horror Cósmico —donde la diferencia de escala entre el hombre y el cosmos es, como mínimo, motivo de espanto—, y demuestra por qué este magnífico autor era tenido en tan alta estima por H.P. Lovecraft.
A la oscuridad.
To the Darkness, Clark Ashton Smith (1893-1961)
Has arrebatado la luz de muchos soles,
sellados ahora en la prisión de la oscuridad.
Como la llama de una vela que se apaga,
has tomado las almas de los hombres
con vientos que soplan desde un lugar vacío;
en el abismo están escondidos,
y los abismos están sobre ellos,
como el peso de muchas montañas,
como la profundidad de muchos mares;
tus escudos están entre ellos y la luz;
han pasado su carga y su amargura;
las lanzas del día no las tocarán,
las cadenas del sol no las allanarán.
Hubo muchos hombres allí,
en los días que ahora son de tu reino,
hombres que has marcado con el sello de muchas profundidades;
sus pies eran como alas de águila en la búsqueda de la Verdad.
Sí, poderosamente deseaban su rostro,
cazándolo a través de las tierras de la vida
como hombres en el nada del páramo
que buscan un tesoro real enterrado.
Pero contra ellos estaban los velos
que las manos no podían rasgar ni los sables perforar;
y se les ocultó la Verdad
como el agua que, distante, se ve al amanecer,
y al mediodía se pierde en la arena
ante los pies del viajero.
El mundo era una yermo estéril,
y los jardines eran como el desierto.
Y ellos se volvieron a la aventura de la oscuridad,
al viaje por tierras sin caminos,
a la navegación del mar que no tiene faros.
¿Por qué no han regresado?
Su búsqueda encontró un final en ti,
o seguramente habrían regresado
al lugar desde el cual partieron,
como hombres que han viajado a una tierra infructuosa.
Han visto tu rostro,
y para ellos es el rostro de la Verdad.
Tu silencio es más dulce para ellos que la voz del amor,
tu abrazo más querido que el beso de la amada.
Se alimentan con el vacío más allá del velo,
y su hambre se llena;
han encontrado las aguas de la paz,
y ya no están más sedientos.
Ellos conocen un descanso más profundo que los abismos,
cuyo sello es irrompible como el sello del vacío;
duermen el sueño de los soles,
y lo vasto es una prenda para ellos.
Thou hast taken the light of many suns,
And they are sealed in the prison-house of gloom.
Even as candle-flames
Hast thou taken the souls of men
With winds from out a hollow place;
They are hid in the abyss as in a sea,
And the gulfs are over them,
As the weight of many mountains,
As the depth of many seas;
Thy shields are between them and the light;
They are past its burden and bitterness;
The spears of the day shall not touch them,
The chains of the sun shall not hale them forth.
Many men there were,
In the days that are now of thy realm,
That thou hast scaled with the seal of many deeps;
Their feet were as eagles' wings in the quest of Truth-—
Aye, mightily they desired her face,
Hunting her through the lands of life
As men in the blankness of the waste
That seek for a buried treasure-house of kings.
But against them were the veils
That hands may not rend nor sabers pierce;
And Truth was withheld from them
As a water that is seen afar at dawn,
And at noon is lost in the sand
Before the feet of the traveller.
The world was a barrenness,
And the gardens were as the waste.
And they turned them to the adventure of the dark,
To the travelling of the land without roads,
To the sailing of the sea that hath no beacons.
Why have they not returned?
Their quest hath found end in thee,
Or surely they had fared
Once more to the place whence they came,
As men that have journeyed to a fruitless land.
They have looked on thy face,
And to them it is the countenance of Truth.
Thy silence is sweeter to them than the voice of love,
Thine embrace more dear than the clasp of the beloved.
They are fed with the emptiness past the veil,
And their hunger is filled;
They have found the waters of peace,
And are athirst no more.
They know a rest that is deeper than the gulfs,
And whose seal is unbreakable as the seal of the void;
They sleep the sleep of the suns,
And the vast is a garment unto them.
Clark Ashton Smith (1893-1961)
And they are sealed in the prison-house of gloom.
Even as candle-flames
Hast thou taken the souls of men
With winds from out a hollow place;
They are hid in the abyss as in a sea,
And the gulfs are over them,
As the weight of many mountains,
As the depth of many seas;
Thy shields are between them and the light;
They are past its burden and bitterness;
The spears of the day shall not touch them,
The chains of the sun shall not hale them forth.
Many men there were,
In the days that are now of thy realm,
That thou hast scaled with the seal of many deeps;
Their feet were as eagles' wings in the quest of Truth-—
Aye, mightily they desired her face,
Hunting her through the lands of life
As men in the blankness of the waste
That seek for a buried treasure-house of kings.
But against them were the veils
That hands may not rend nor sabers pierce;
And Truth was withheld from them
As a water that is seen afar at dawn,
And at noon is lost in the sand
Before the feet of the traveller.
The world was a barrenness,
And the gardens were as the waste.
And they turned them to the adventure of the dark,
To the travelling of the land without roads,
To the sailing of the sea that hath no beacons.
Why have they not returned?
Their quest hath found end in thee,
Or surely they had fared
Once more to the place whence they came,
As men that have journeyed to a fruitless land.
They have looked on thy face,
And to them it is the countenance of Truth.
Thy silence is sweeter to them than the voice of love,
Thine embrace more dear than the clasp of the beloved.
They are fed with the emptiness past the veil,
And their hunger is filled;
They have found the waters of peace,
And are athirst no more.
They know a rest that is deeper than the gulfs,
And whose seal is unbreakable as the seal of the void;
They sleep the sleep of the suns,
And the vast is a garment unto them.
Clark Ashton Smith (1893-1961)
Poemas góticos. I Poemas de Clark Ashton Smith.
Más literatura gótica:
El análisis, traducción al español y resumen del poema de Clark Ashton Smith: A la oscuridad (To the Darkness), fueron realizados por El Espejo Gótico. Para su reproducción escríbenos a elespejogotico@gmail.com
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