Thursday, May 29, 2014

Traduciones del libro SETH / EL HOMBRE-BESTIA

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ENTRAPMENT OF YOUR BROTHER
So you stretched in a trap your very brother when came,
one called the 'Good guy'. The innocent.
Instead of taking him to the break room,
after the banquet, you pushed him into a chest
of extermination, with orders to sink his grave
in Nile river. whatever it may happen
that the waters swallow him
once sealed by death. ...


That day was fractionated your consciousness by complete.
Since that night, Seth, as a person, you stopped there
your existence, you pulled out from yourself
the true ego. Decided to live by the armies.
Battle after battle, will rush to your days.
You have to protect from the dead.

Every thought claim the blood from you,
you should pay due karma, the resulting pain,
because pain is charged to you as debt
and it is your biggest enemy.
Osiris was also your essence
and Byblos, Syria, confirmed your crime.
But take comfort, Demon
Osiris does not die forever.

In the chest there is something written
about your forgiveness,
One line said that he will return to liberate
your soul in fragmentation.
The other is observing your chains.

*

ENTRAMPAMIENTO DEL HERMANO
Entonces, tendiste una trampa
al hermano que vino, al que llamaron Ser Bueno.
El inocente.
En vez de llevarlo al aposento del descanso,
tras el banquete, lo empujaste hacia un cofre
de exterminio, con orden de que hundieran su tumba
en el Nilo. Que se lo traguen las aguas
una vez sellado con la muerte.

Ese día se fraccionó tu consciencia por completo.
Desde esa noche, Seth, dejaste de existir
como un humano; exilaste el ego verdadero.
Decidiste que vivirás por los ejércitos.
Batalla tras batalla, dará premura a tus días.
Tendrás que protegerte de los muertos.

Cada pensamiento te reclamará la sangre,
el karma, el dolor resultante, porque es al dolor
al que pluralizas, tu mayor enemigo.
Osiris fue también tu esencia
y en Biblos, Siria, confirmaron tu crimen.
Pero, consuélate, Demonio,
Osiris no muere para siempre.

En el cofre ha escrito tu perdón,
dijo que vuelve. Regresará a liberar
tu alma fragmentada.
El sí que observa tus cadenas.

*

YOUR HOME IN MEMPHIS
I remember your wealth in Memphis.
Wedding of your house,
All men you called the officers,
your servants; your accomplices
and how you choose them.

They were like you, always dissatisfied,
so hard fit, energetic,
in violence, skillful,
but without joy.

I saw when you received the sweetest
of your brothers, one that they called theTraveler.
He was a king, a priest and his voice was Thoth,
the lordship of the Word, Magic Good Judgment
In you, on the contrary, there was no knowledge.

*

PREPOTENCY
You did not love the land, property,
no pleasure, the domain of one or the other.
You spoke badly of Anubis,
each divine law in us.

You said, "I am right and wrong,
No one else will tell me what to do.
No space or instrument
exists beyond these arms
and legs that I have; no other heart
but myself, my self.
My pluralized Ego. "

08-08-2000
*

DE TU CASA EN MENFIS
Recuerdo tu riqueza en Menfis.
Banquetes de tu casa,
A los hombres llamados funcionarios,
tus siervos; tus cómplices
y cómo los elegiste.

Eran como tú, siempre insatisfechos,
aptos por lo duro, enérgicos,
en violencia, hábiles,
pero sin regocijo.

Ví cuando recibieron al más dulce
de tus hermanos, al que llamaron Viajero.
El era un rey, un sacerdote y su voz era Thoth,
la señoría del Verbo, magia del Buen Juicio.
En tí no había este conocimiento.

*

PREPOTENCIA
Amabas no la tierra, la propiedad,
no los placeres,
el dominio de unos y de otros.
Mal hablaste de Anubis,
de cada ley divina en nosotros.

Dijiste: «Yo soy lo correcto y lo incorrecto,
Ninguno me dirá lo que haga.
No hay más allá que estos brazos
y piernas que tengo; no hay otro corazón,
sino el yo mismo, mi Yo.
Mi yo pluralizado».

08-08-2000

Traduciones del libro SETH / EL HOMBRE-BESTIA
*

Frag.
 
For days when the pain
was so intense
and my life resembled 

such a high cost-in-anguish, days
when I was alone and disgusted,
I wrote: «It's a world of beasts»,
not yet discovered my space.
In any way, without my soul in solidarity.

So I didn't want to be part of the fire.
Easier was that I craved death
which separates all.
And I could think
on how undesirable this world is

when takes away our livelihood
but then I was more than sad, sick,

as a voice of dry leaf.

Now I know that no one had time
for my task
nor I knew that I am the author

of certain provident utensil
or a song, one that would take me

from my psychological  Momentum
toward the door,


Now I write that the best of me,
I no longer would run to burn it.
 

What is the best on me, from my wealth,
my offering...it shall not be as burnt leaves.
Nothing given like stubble
on backpack of fire.
It's the best of me.
My body and my song
dutifully saved.


And I would sing vibrating in love
the poem of my life task and my faith.

So yes ... I told myself the pardon,
I save some other little things
and I avoide the bitterness.

Certainly, I still have time to burn

powder words. Waste. Stubble.
Over a dead body, I will pour out images
of emotions and decline of world.

I sprinkle lime on rotten memories.

CARLOS LOPEZ DZUR





 

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