THE POEM OF THE CID
19
The last night in which the Cid sleeps in Castile.
An angel consoles the exile
There lay down, My Cid, after night had come;
he slept so deeply a dream seized him sweetly.
The angel Gabriel came to him in a vision:
"Ride forward, Cid, good Campeador,
for no man ever rode forth at so propitious a moment;
as long as you live that which is yours will prosper."
He crossed himself, My Cid, when he awoke.
20
The Cid camps on the Castillian frontier
He made the sign of the cross, and commended himself
to God.
He was deeply glad because of the dream he had
dreamed.
¿Venderé mis palabras hoy que carezco de
utilidad, de ingresos, hoy que nadie me fía?
Necesito dinero para el amor, pobreza
para amar. Y el precio de un recuerdo, la subasta
de un vicio, el inventario de un deseo,
dan valor, no virtud, a mis necesidades,
amplio vocabulario a mis torpezas,
licencia a mi caliza
soledad. Porque el dinero, a veces, es el propio
sueño, es la misma
vida. Y su triunfo, su monopolio, da fervor,
cambio, imaginación, quita vejez y abre
ceños y multiplica los amigos,
y alza faldas y es miel
cristalizando luz, calor. No plaga, lepra
como hoy; alegría,
no frivolidad; ley,
no impunidad. ¿Voy a vender, entonces,
estas palabras? Rico de tanta pérdida,
sin maniobras, sin bolsa, aun sin tentación
y aun sin ruina dorada, ¿a qué la madriguera
de estas palabras que si dan aliento
no dan dinero? ¿Prometen pan o armas?
¿O bien, como un balance mal urdido,
intentan ordenar un tiempo de carestía,
dar sentido a una vida: propiedad o desahucio?
CR
DINERO
“Alianza y condena” (1965)
Shall I sell my
words today in which I have no
utility, income or
credit?
I need money to buy
love, poverty
to love. And the
price of a memoir, the auction
of a vice, the inventory
of a desire,
give value, no
virtue, to my necessities,
ample vocabulary
to my wrongs,
license to my limestone
loneliness.
Because money is,
sometimes, our own
dream, life
itsef. And its
victory, its monopoly, gives fervor,
change,
imagination, erases aging and open
frowns multiplying
friends,
uplifting skirts and it
is honey
cristallizing light,
heat. Not plague, pandemy
like today; joy,
not frivolity;
law,
not impunity.
Shall I sell, then
these words? Rich
of so much loss,
without tricks,
without purse, even without temptation
and any golden
ruin, ¿for which purpose the burrow
of these words giving
breath
instead of money?
¿Do they promise bread or arms?
or, like an underfunded
balance sheet,
try to order a
time of scarcity,
provide meaning to
a life: self-ownership or eviction?
DINERO
“Alianza y condena” (1965)
(traducción Guillermo Ruiz)
