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Miguel de Cervantes |
Today
is the birthday of a Spanish novelist, poet and playwright Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (29 September 1547 – 22
April 1616). His magnum opus, Don Quixote, considered the first modern European
novel, is a classic of Western literature and is regarded amongst the best
works of fiction ever written. His influence on the Spanish language has been
so great that the language is often called la lengua de Cervantes ("the
language of Cervantes"). He was dubbed El Príncipe de los Ingenios
("The Prince of Wits"). Presenting some poems : Being Poet
War Calls
Me
War calls me
And I have to go.
If I had money
It wouldn’t be so.
And I have to go.
If I had money
It wouldn’t be so.
I Seek Life
in Death
I seek life in death,
health in sickness,
freedom in prison,
escape from entrapment
and loyalty from the traitor.
health in sickness,
freedom in prison,
escape from entrapment
and loyalty from the traitor.
But my fate - from
which
I've never expected any good to come -
has joined forces with the heavens above to decree
that since I'm asking for the impossible
it won't even give me the possible.
I've never expected any good to come -
has joined forces with the heavens above to decree
that since I'm asking for the impossible
it won't even give me the possible.
The Chains
of Love
There’s some to make
links and chains;
And there’s some to make
the chains of love!
links and chains;
And there’s some to make
the chains of love!
For there’s steel
to forge and be bent
and there’s true love
to find or invent!
to forge and be bent
and there’s true love
to find or invent!
So buy the best
metal,
you’ve money enough,
and join those making
the chains of love!
you’ve money enough,
and join those making
the chains of love!
The Gypsies
Dance
The gypsies dance,
The King watches them;
The jealous Queen
Orders the guards in.
The King watches them;
The jealous Queen
Orders the guards in.
On Twelfth Night
By royal command
There’s a gypsy dance:
‘Belica and Inés’;
By royal command
There’s a gypsy dance:
‘Belica and Inés’;
Clumsy Belica
Trips over by His Majesty,
The King lifts her
Up with gracious courtesy;
Trips over by His Majesty,
The King lifts her
Up with gracious courtesy;
But as if she were
Belilla
With the beautiful skin,
The jealous Queen
Orders the guards in.
With the beautiful skin,
The jealous Queen
Orders the guards in.
Castilian
Redondilla
When he returned home
from the wars,
Having set our Spanish soil free,
It seemed he suddenly took flight,
The most beautiful of flowers
Transplanted up into the sky;
Snapped off from its root and stem
In a deadly and fatal turn
Of events that was so hidden,
It was like not feeling a flame
Until when it begins to burn.
Having set our Spanish soil free,
It seemed he suddenly took flight,
The most beautiful of flowers
Transplanted up into the sky;
Snapped off from its root and stem
In a deadly and fatal turn
Of events that was so hidden,
It was like not feeling a flame
Until when it begins to burn.
On The Duke
Of Medina Entering Cadiz
Another July Holy
Week and we saw
All the usual gangs getting in the way,
Brothers-in-arms, so the soldiers say,
Scaring all, except the English in war.
All the usual gangs getting in the way,
Brothers-in-arms, so the soldiers say,
Scaring all, except the English in war.
There was such a
teeming mass in town
In less than fourteen or fifteen days
The pygmies and the goliaths raised
All the buildings to the ground.
In less than fourteen or fifteen days
The pygmies and the goliaths raised
All the buildings to the ground.
The hobbled calf
bellowed his
Heart out, all was turmoil and affray,
Earth shook, the sky couldn't get darker,
Heart out, all was turmoil and affray,
Earth shook, the sky couldn't get darker,
And then, into
half-starved Cadiz -
The unsuspecting Count gone away -
In triumph came the Grand Duke of Medina.
The unsuspecting Count gone away -
In triumph came the Grand Duke of Medina.
Sir
Belianis of Greece to Don Quixote de la Mancha
I did my cutting,
thrusting, hacking away, more
Than any other in a long line of valiant knights;
I was brave and bold and clever in arts of war,
Put over a hundred thousand wrongs to rights.
Than any other in a long line of valiant knights;
I was brave and bold and clever in arts of war,
Put over a hundred thousand wrongs to rights.
My deeds will live on
in history
In courtly love I was gallant and skillful;
I took on giants like they meant nothing to me,
And in fighting duels I played by every rule.
In courtly love I was gallant and skillful;
I took on giants like they meant nothing to me,
And in fighting duels I played by every rule.
I made Dame Fortune
grovel at my knees
And was smart enough to grab opportunity
By the balls, make it do what I please,
And was smart enough to grab opportunity
By the balls, make it do what I please,
I took on all comers
with impunity
And was on top of my game in my heyday
But I envy your prowess, oh great Don Quixote!
And was on top of my game in my heyday
But I envy your prowess, oh great Don Quixote!
At The Tomb Of King
Philip II in Seville
My God! I'm stunned by its grandeur.
I'd pay a doubloon to do it justice
In words, for who wouldn't wonder
My God! I'm stunned by its grandeur.
I'd pay a doubloon to do it justice
In words, for who wouldn't wonder
At this famous work,
such richness?
Christ alive! Each part's worth a mill
Or even more, and it's such a pity
It won't last the century. Oh Seville!
Like triumphant Rome, what a great city!
Christ alive! Each part's worth a mill
Or even more, and it's such a pity
It won't last the century. Oh Seville!
Like triumphant Rome, what a great city!
This dead man's soul,
I bet you,
Is even now here, taking in the view,
Leaving eternal life and all its glories.
A man swaggered over saying "It's true
What you say, soldier, and who
Ever says it's not so is full of lies."
Is even now here, taking in the view,
Leaving eternal life and all its glories.
A man swaggered over saying "It's true
What you say, soldier, and who
Ever says it's not so is full of lies."
Then, as if caught by
surprise,
He pulled down his hat, checked his sword,
Looked sideways, then went without a word.
He pulled down his hat, checked his sword,
Looked sideways, then went without a word.
(All
poems are translated by Paul Archer. Paul is a poet and
translator. He is a graduate of Oxford University and has pursued a career in
the UK, Europe and Japan. He currently divides his time between homes in
England and Mallorca. His work has been published in various literary magazines
and poetry websites.)
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