Once in awhile I feel an anguish, And my future shudders before me. A wall suddenly stalks The final suburb into which stumbles
The light of the countryside. Who'll be sad If the sun strips it all away? No, there's no hurry Yet. What's urgent is the ripe Fruit. The hand already peels it.
... And a day between the days will be all The more sad. The hand must tend to it Without longing. And abiding by the impending
One day I'll say without as much as a snivel: do it True death. The old pale wall is going To impose on me its law, not its accident. --
Translated by John Samuel Tieman
Muerte A Lo Lejos
Je soutenais l'éclat de la mort toute pure. Valéry
Alguna vez me angustia una certeza, Y ante mí se estremece mi futuro. Acechándolo está de pronto un muro Del arrabal final en que tropieza
La luz del campo. ¿Mas habrá tristeza Si la desnuda el sol? No, no hay apuro Todavía. Lo urgente es el maduro Fruto. La mano ya lo descorteza.
...Y un día entre los días el más triste Será. Tenderse deberá la mano Sin afán. Y acatando el inminente
Poder diré sin lágrimas: embiste, Justa fatalidad. El muro cano Va a imponerme su ley, no su accidente. -----
Translation copyright 2019 John Samuel Tieman.
Jorge Guillén Álvarez (1893 – 1984) was a Spanish poet, a member of the Generation of ’27, as well as a university teacher, scholar and literary critic.
Vox Populi 
I love being introduced to poets I don’t know. Thanks, Michael.
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