Two sonnets by José María Lopera translated by Frank Sanders.

HOMBRE DE MADERA

By José María Lopera

Aquí tienes a un hombre de madera
que, herido en tierno amor, desaparece.
Tiene el ramaje mustio y se estremece,
siente el alma dolida y desespera.

Siempre será ciprés, aunque pudiera
ser cruel espino en zarza que florece.
Llena de amor su alma languidece,
recostada en la luz de una quimera.

.Aquí tienes a un hombre en tronco vivo
a quien el desamor pudre raíces
y el sin vivir su savia triste mustia.

No lo mires con aire compasivo
ni gesto de consuelo exteriorices:
La madera se pudre sin angustia…




THE WOODEN MAN

By J M Lopera, rendered into English verse by Francis Sanders

Here you can see a man who is made of wood,
fading away of wounds from true love taken.
With withered branches and by trembling shaken,
he feels his soul injured, hopeless and no good.

He’ll be ever a cypress, though sometimes could
on flowering briar be a cruel thorn. Filled then
with love, and languishing his soul will weaken;
and in light of an illusion rest its mood.

Here you’ve a man who is like a trunk, all bare,
with indifference rotting his roots below,
and his sorry sap dried by his anxiousness.

Don’t regard him with a compassionate air,
nor any gesture of solace should you show:
for the wood is perishing without distress.

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CONSUMACIÓN

By José María Lopera

Te temblaba el rubor de la pudicia
en los senos turgentes. Mi ternura
se abrazaba al ardor de tu cintura
con toda el alma puesta en su codicia.

Era mi mano sangre de caricia
gozándose en tu cuerpo. Con dulzura,
iba abriendo la flor de tu clausura,
oferente de amor y de primicia.

La pasión de los labios conjugados
en el sabor del beso, nos hacía
nudo de sangre, fruta sin cercados.

Y consumamos todo: La alegría
vital de nuestros cuerpos ayuntados,
tomó la luz que de la luz venía.


CONSUMMATION

By J M Lopera, rendered into English verse by Francis Sanders

The blush of modesty a trembling unleashed
in the swell of your breasts. Tender, I embraced
you, feeling the warmth of passion in your waist
as my soul was caught up in desire’s feast.

My hand was an engine of caresses, pleased
in enjoyment of your body, sweetly placed
to open your closure’s flower, this graced
by promise of love and novelty released.

Through our conjoined lips our passion was founded
in the taste of the kiss and was consuming
our force, this fruit by no fences surrounded.

And we consummate all: the spirit, blooming
from bodies joining, vital and unbounded,
attained the light that from the light was coming.


JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
http://www.josemarialopera.com
http://www.josemarialopera.com/africa.pdf
http://africabilingualpoetrybook.blogspot.com/
http://josemarialoperapjesme.blogspot.com
http://jmloperatraduitparnicole.blogspot.com/
http://revistaaloralabiencercada.blogspot.com