MIGUEL HERNANDEZ

MIGUEL HERNANDEZ

Todo está lleno de ti,

y todo de mí está lleno:
llenas están las ciudades,
igual que los cementerios
de ti, por todas las casas,
de mí, por todos los cuerpos.

Por las calles voy dejando
algo que voy recogiendo:
pedazos de vida mía
venidos desde muy lejos.

Voy alado a la agonía,
arrastrándome me veo
en el umbral, en el fondo
latente del nacimiento.

Todo está lleno de mí:
de algo que es tuyo y recuerdo
perdido, pero encontrado
alguna vez, algún tiempo.

Tiempo que se queda atrás
decididamente negro,
indeleblemente rojo,
dorado sobre tu cuerpo.

Todo está lleno de ti,
traspasado de tu pelo:
de algo que no he conseguido
y que busco entre tus huesos.

[Everything is full of you]

Everything is full of you
and I am full of everything:
the cities are full,
and the cemeteries are full,

you, with all the houses,
me, with all the bodies.

Down the streets, I will leave
something that I will retake:
pieces of my life
come from far away.

I go, feathered by agony
against my will, to see myself
in the threshold, in the bottom
hidden since birth.

Everything is full of me:
of something that is yours and memory
lost, but found
once more, some day.

Days that linger behind
decidedly black,
indelibly red,
golden upon your body.

Cast from your hair,
everything is full of you:
of something that I haven't found
and look for among your bones.

Miguel Hernandez who came from Orihuela in this region died in prison in 1942.
He wrote "Nanas de cebolla" (onion lullaby) to his wife who was surviving on bread and onions...

Nanas de cebolla


La cebolla es escarcha
cerrada y pobre:
escarcha de tus dias
Y de mis noches.
Hambre y cebolla,
hielo negro y escarcha
grande y redonda.

En la cuna del hambre
mi nino estaba.
Con sangre de cebolla
se amamantaba.
Pero tu sangre,
escarchada de azucar,
cebolla y hambre.

Una mujer morena
resuelta en luna
se derrama hilo a hilo
sobre la cuna.
Riete, nino,
que te tragas la luna
cuando es preciso.

Alondra de mi casa
riete mucho.
Es tu risa en los ojos
la luz del mundo.
Riete tanto
que en el alma, al oirte,
bata el espacio.

Tu risa me hace libre,
Me pone als.
Soledades me quita,
Carcel me arranca.
Boca que vuela,
Corazon que en tus labios
Relampaguea.

In English

The onion is frost
shut in and poor
Frost of your days
and of my nights.
Hunger and onion,
black ice and frost
large and round.

My littke boy
was in hunger's cradle
He was nursed
on onion blood
But your blood
is frosted with sugar,
onion and hunger.

A dark woman
dissolved in moonlight
pours herself thread by thread
into the cradle.
Laugh, son,
you can swallow the moon
when you want to.

Lark of my house,
keep laughing.
The laughter in your eyes
is the light of the world.
Laugh so much
that my soul, hearing you,
will beat in space.

Your laughter frees me,
gives me wings
It sweeps away my loneliness
knocks down my cell.
Mouth that flies,
heart that turns
to lightning on your lips.