{"id":2672,"date":"2009-04-11T14:37:30","date_gmt":"2009-04-11T14:37:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poeticas.es\/?p=2672"},"modified":"2020-05-28T11:06:16","modified_gmt":"2020-05-28T09:06:16","slug":"william-butler-yeats","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/?p=2672","title":{"rendered":"William Butler Yeats"},"content":{"rendered":"<p class=\"MsoNormal\" style=\"text-align: justify;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-2673\" title=\"Rose, Shamrock, y Thistle, de George W. Joy\" src=\"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/04\/williambutleryeats.jpg\" alt=\"Rose, Shamrock, y Thistle, de George W. Joy\" width=\"400\" height=\"304\" srcset=\"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/04\/williambutleryeats.jpg 400w, https:\/\/poeticas.es\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/04\/williambutleryeats-300x228.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 400px) 100vw, 400px\" \/><\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\" style=\"text-align: justify;\"><em>La poes\u00eda del irland\u00e9s William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) cant\u00f3 en sus comienzos los mitos antiguos de Irlanda con un lenguaje musical exquisito. Luego, abandon\u00f3 los excesos ornamentales buscando una poes\u00eda m\u00e1s desnuda.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>A LA ROSA QUE EST\u00c1 SOBRE LA CRUZ DEL TIEMPO<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>\u00a1Rosa roja, orgullosa Rosa, triste Rosa de mis d\u00edas!<br \/>\nAc\u00e9rcate mientras canto antiguas tradiciones:<br \/>\nCuchulain combatiendo con la fiera marea,<br \/>\nel canoso Druida, criado en el bosque, de ojos calmos,<br \/>\nque sumi\u00f3 en sue\u00f1os a Fergus, y en la ruina,<br \/>\ny tu propia tristeza, de la que las estrellas, envejecidas<br \/>\nde bailar con sandalias de plata sobre el mar,<br \/>\ncantan con su alta y solitaria melod\u00eda.<br \/>\nAc\u00e9rcate: que, no cegado ya por el destino humano,<br \/>\nbajo las ramas del amor y el odio hallo<br \/>\nen cuantas cosas necias viven s\u00f3lo un d\u00eda,<br \/>\nla belleza eterna, errante en su camino.<\/p>\n<p>\u00a1Ac\u00e9rcate, ac\u00e9rcate, mas deja<br \/>\nun hueco con que llenar tu aliento!<br \/>\nPara no o\u00edr m\u00e1s cosas vulgares que imploran,<br \/>\nla larva que se oculta en su agujero,<br \/>\nel rat\u00f3n que junto a m\u00ed cruza la hierba<br \/>\ny esperanzas mortales que se afanan y pasan;<br \/>\nsino que s\u00f3lo busque las extra\u00f1as cosas dichas<br \/>\npor Dios a los que han muerto ya hace mucho<br \/>\ny aprenda a cantar con una lengua ignota.<br \/>\nAc\u00e9rcate; quiero, antes que mi tiempo acabe,<br \/>\ncantar a la vieja Eire y sus leyendas.<br \/>\n\u00a1Rosa roja, orgullosa Rosa, triste Rosa de mis d\u00edas!<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 40px;\"><em>La rosa<\/em>, 1893. Traducci\u00f3n de Antonio Rivero Taravillo.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 40px;\"><strong>TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF TIME<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 40px;\">Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!<br \/>\nCome near me, while I sing the ancient ways:<br \/>\nCuchulain battling with the bitter tide;<br \/>\nThe Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet eyed,<br \/>\nWho cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;<br \/>\nAnd thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old<br \/>\nIn dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,<br \/>\nSing in their high and lonely melody.<br \/>\nCome near, that no more blinded by man&#8217;s fate,<br \/>\nI find under the boughs of love and hate,<br \/>\nIn all poor foolish things that live a day,<br \/>\nEternal beauty wandering on her way.<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 40px;\">Come near, come near, come near\u2014Ah, leave me still<br \/>\nA little space for the rose-breath to fill!<br \/>\nLest I no more hear common things that crave;<br \/>\nThe weak worm hiding down in its small cave,<br \/>\nThe field-mouse running by me in the grass,<br \/>\nAnd heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;<br \/>\nBut seek alone to hear the strange things said<br \/>\nBy God to the bright hearts of those long dead,<br \/>\nAnd learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know<br \/>\nCome near; I would, before my time to go,<br \/>\nSing of old Eire and the ancient ways:<br \/>\nRed Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 80px;\"><em>The rose<\/em>, 1893.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\"><strong>UNA CAPA<\/strong><\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\">De mi canci\u00f3n hice una capa<br \/>\nCubierta de mitos viejos<br \/>\nDesde los pies hasta el cuello.<br \/>\nPero los tontos la cogieron,<br \/>\nLlev\u00e1ndola ante la gente<br \/>\nComo si la hubieran hecho.<br \/>\nCanci\u00f3n, deja que la lleven,<br \/>\nPorque m\u00e1s resoluci\u00f3n hay<br \/>\nEn andar desnudo.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\" style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><em>Responsabilidades<\/em>, 1914. Traducci\u00f3n de Luis Cernuda.<\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\" style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><strong>A COAT<\/strong><\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\" style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">I made my song a coat<br \/>\nCovered with embroideries<br \/>\nOut of old mythologies<br \/>\nFrom heel to throat;<br \/>\nBut the fools caught it,<br \/>\nWore it in the world\u2019s eyes<br \/>\nAs though they\u2019d wrought it.<br \/>\n<span lang=\"FR\">Song, let them take it<br \/>\nFor there\u2019s more enterprise<br \/>\nIn walking naked.<\/span><\/p>\n<p class=\"MsoNormal\" style=\"padding-left: 60px;\"><em><span lang=\"FR\">Responsabilities<\/span><\/em><span lang=\"FR\">, 1914.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>La poes\u00eda del irland\u00e9s William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) cant\u00f3 en sus comienzos los mitos antiguos de Irlanda con un lenguaje musical exquisito. Luego, abandon\u00f3 los excesos ornamentales buscando una poes\u00eda m\u00e1s desnuda. A LA ROSA QUE EST\u00c1 SOBRE LA CRUZ DEL TIEMPO \u00a1Rosa roja, orgullosa Rosa, triste Rosa de mis d\u00edas! Ac\u00e9rcate mientras canto antiguas&#8230; <\/p>\n<div class=\"read-more navbutton\"><a href=\"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/?p=2672\">Leer m\u00e1s<i class=\"fa fa-angle-double-right\"><\/i><\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,60],"tags":[148,38,15],"class_list":["post-2672","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-literatura-inglesa","tag-premio-nobel","tag-xix","tag-xx"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2672","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2672"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2672\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5710,"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2672\/revisions\/5710"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2672"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2672"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poeticas.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2672"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}