Skip to main content
Outdated Browser

For the best experience using our website, we recommend upgrading your browser to a newer version or switching to a supported browser.

More Information

Poetry

For Eugenio Montejo

By Juan Antonio Masoliver Ródenas
Translated from Spanish by Samantha Schnee

Serene, Salinas, grows the air
and decks itself in beauty
and unaccustomed light
when consummate music sounds
steered by your knowing hand.

     Tr. Michael Smith
     Fray Luis de León, “To Francisco Salinas”

The music without sound,
The solitude that clamors
The supper that revives us and enamors.  

     Tr. Roy Campbell
     San Juan de la Cruz, “Spiritual Song”
        
Blackbird, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

     The Beatles, “Blackbird”

I didn’t see a single blackbird
that night
of Greek drunkenness
in a Berlin tavern
where you, Armando
Romero, and I drank
our fill
to speak insatiably
on this long path
of nights
that leads to friendship.
I didn’t see a single blackbird,
rather, in the reflection
of the alcohol, an ivory
hand which beckoned me.
And I didn’t see Nefertiti, instead
like on that bridge in Florence
the unforgotten waters of the Arno,
I saw Sònia in a transparent dress
and Armando awakening me
among blackbirds
you invented, like
those drunken nights
of eternal friendship
and lost loves
between sobs which she ignores
and which tomorrow, perhaps by dawn,
she’ll have forgotten,
in the glorious hangover
of song of the blackbirds and Eugenio
Montejo.

English Spanish (Original)

Serene, Salinas, grows the air
and decks itself in beauty
and unaccustomed light
when consummate music sounds
steered by your knowing hand.

     Tr. Michael Smith
     Fray Luis de León, “To Francisco Salinas”

The music without sound,
The solitude that clamors
The supper that revives us and enamors.  

     Tr. Roy Campbell
     San Juan de la Cruz, “Spiritual Song”
        
Blackbird, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

     The Beatles, “Blackbird”

I didn’t see a single blackbird
that night
of Greek drunkenness
in a Berlin tavern
where you, Armando
Romero, and I drank
our fill
to speak insatiably
on this long path
of nights
that leads to friendship.
I didn’t see a single blackbird,
rather, in the reflection
of the alcohol, an ivory
hand which beckoned me.
And I didn’t see Nefertiti, instead
like on that bridge in Florence
the unforgotten waters of the Arno,
I saw Sònia in a transparent dress
and Armando awakening me
among blackbirds
you invented, like
those drunken nights
of eternal friendship
and lost loves
between sobs which she ignores
and which tomorrow, perhaps by dawn,
she’ll have forgotten,
in the glorious hangover
of song of the blackbirds and Eugenio
Montejo.

a Eugenio Montejo

                El aire se serena
                y viste de hermosura y luz no usada,
                Salinas, cuando suena
                la música extremada
                por vuestra sabia mano gobernada.
                    Fray Luis de León, “A Francisco Salinas”.

                La música callada,
                la soledad sonora,
                la cena que recrea y enamora.
                   San Juan de la Cruz, “Canto espiritual”

                Blackbird, blackbird fly
                Into the light of the dark black night.
                   The Beatles, “Blackbird”
                    

Yo no vi ningún mirlo
aquella noche
de ebriedad griega
en una taberna de Berlín
donde tú, Armando
Romero y yo bebimos
hasta la saciedad
para hablar insaciablemente
en este largo recorrido
de las noches
que llevan a la amistad.
Yo no vi ningún mirlo
sino, en el espejismo
del alcohol, una mano
de marfil que me llamaba.
Y no vi a Nefertiti sino,
como en el puente de Florencia,
aguas del Arno siempre recordadas,
a Sònia con un traje transparente
y a Armando despertándome
entre mirlos
inventados por ti, como se inventan
las noches de ebriedad
y de amistad eterna
y de amores perdidos
entre sollozos que ella ignora
y que mañana, ya no sé si al alba,
habré olvidado ya,
en la gloriosa resaca
de música de mirlos y de Eugenio
            Montejo.

© Antonio Masoliver. All rights reserved.

Read Next