Posted in Other, poem, translation

NOCTURNAL LOVE (1837) | Karl Marx

NOCTURNAL LOVE (1837)
Karl Marx

Frantic, he holds her near,
Darkly looks in her eye.
“Pain so burns you, Dear,
And at my breath you sigh.

“Oh, you have drunk my soul.
Mine is your glow, in truth.
My jewel, shine your fill.
Glow, blood of youth.”

“Sweetest, so pale your face,
So wondrous strange your words.
See, rich in music’s grace
The lofty gliding worlds.”

“Gliding, dearest, gliding,
Glowing, stars, glowing.
Let us go heavenwards riding,
Our souls together flowing.”

His voice is muffled, low.
Desparate, he looks about.
Glances of crackling flame
His hollow eyes shoot out.

“You have drunk poison, Love.
With me you must away.
The sky is dark above,
No more I see the day.”

Shuddering, he pulls her close to him.
Death in the breast doth hover.
Pain stabs her, piercing deep within,
And eyes are closed forever.

Nalathala bilang Athenaum, Zeitschrift fur das gebildete Deutschland, January 23, 1841

NATUTULOG NA PAG-IBIG
Karl Marx
salin sa Filipino ni Noel Sales Barcelona

May pagkabalisa’y kinakasi’y niyapos,
At ang abuhing mata’y sa antatao’y itinutok
“Silab ng pait ang sa iyo’y umuupos,
Sa aking paghinga’y buntung-hininga ang sagot.

“Kaluluwa ko’y nilagok mo nang buô.
Kinang mo’y akin, sa pagpapakatotoo.
Aking hiyas, sa iyong kinang ako’y lagumin mo.
Magningning, ang batang dugo.

“O aking irog, mukha mo’y tila papel,
Tila bugtong ang inuusal mo sa akin.
Masdan mo, pinagyaman ng himigin
Mga mundong hambog na lumilipad sa hangin.

“Lumilipad, aking giliw, lumilipad
Kumikinang, ang mga bituin, kumikinang.
Tayo na, aking giliw, tungong kalangitan
Hayaang kumawala ang kaluluwang uhaw.”

Tinig niya’y napipilan, naging lubhang bahaw.
Tila diyablo siya, at kanyang tinanaw.
Sinulyap ang aandap-andap na apoy ng ilawan
Ang matang nanlalalim, kumawala sa lalagyan.

“Lason ang ininom mo, aking Mahal.
Dapat matagal mo na akong nilayuan.
Makulimlim, masdan mo, ang kalangitan
Tinampuhan na tayo ng Haring Araw.”

Buong pangangatal, niyapos siyang muli.
Habang sa dibdib, ang kanyang pagkasawi.
Sumikad ang kirot, sa kaibuturan ng binibini
Ang pagpikit ng mata’y walang pagdilat muli.

Author:

Isa lamang ordinaryong miron at mapangarapin si Noel Sales Barcelona na nagnanais magsulat ng hinggil sa kaniyang nadarama.

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