THE RIVER-MERCHANT’S
WIFE: A LETTER
While my
hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played
about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by
on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked
about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went
on living in the village of Chōkan:
Two small
people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen
I married My Lord you.
I never
laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my
head, I looked at the wall.
Called to,
a thousand times, I never looked back.
At fifteen
I stopped scowling,
I desired
my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and
forever, and forever.
Why should
I climb the look out?
At sixteen
you departed
You went
into far Ku-tō-en, by the river of swirling eddies,
And you
have been gone five months.
The monkeys
make sorrowful noise overhead.
You dragged
your feet when you went out.
By the gate
now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to
clear them away!
The leaves
fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired
butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the
grass in the West garden;
They hurt
me.
I grow
older.
If you are
coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let
me know beforehand,
And I will
come out to meet you
As far as
Chō-fū-Sa.
By EZRA POUND
After LI PO
CARTA DE LA MUJER DEL
MERCADER DEL RÍO
Cuando
usaba aún el pelo corto sobre la frente
Y jugaba en
el portón recogiendo flores,
Viniste montado
en una caña de bambú
Y trotaste
alrededor de mí, sentada, jugando con ciruelas azules.
Y seguimos
viviendo en la aldea de Chokan,
Dos
chiquilines sin antipatía ni malicia.
A los
catorce años me casé contigo, Mi Señor.
Jamás reí,
era tan tímida.
Bajando la
cabeza, miraba a la pared.
Por más que
me llamaran nunca me volví a mirar.
A los quince
dejé de ser adusta.
Deseaba que
mis cenizas se mezclaran con las tuyas
Para
siempre, siempre, siempre.
¿Por qué
tuve que subir al mirador?
A los
dieciséis partiste
Hacia el
lejano Ku-to-yen, por el río de locos remolinos,
y has
estado ausente cinco meses.
Los monos
hacen arriba un doloroso estrépito.
Arrastrabas
los pies cuando te fuiste.
El musgo
crece ahora en el portón
¡Demasiado
tupido para arrancarlo!
Las hojas
caen prematuras este ventoso otoño;
Las
mariposas apareadas amarillean ya en agosto
Sobre la
hierba del jardín del oeste.
Me hacen
daño. Envejezco.
Si regresas
a través de las gargantas del Kiang
Házmelo
saber, por favor, anticipadamente:
E iré a
encontrarle
En Cho-fu-sa.
RIHAKU
(LI PO)
Traducción de CARLOS VIOLA SOTO
