Ruben Dario

(January 18, 1867 - February 6, 1916 / Metapa)

Gaita Galaica (Bagpipes Of Spain) - Poem by Ruben Dario

Gaita galaica, que sabes cantar
lo que profundo y dulce nos es.
Dices de amor, y dices después
de un amargor como el de la mar.

Canta. Es el tiempo. Haremos danzar
al fino verso de rítmicos pies.
Ya nos lo dijo el Eclesiastés:
tiempo hay de todo; hay tiempo para amar;

tiempo de ganar, tiempo de perder,
tiempo de plantar, tiempo de coger,
tiempo de llorar, tiempo de reír,
tiempo de rasgar, tiempo de coser,
tiempo de esparcir y de recoger,
tiempo de nacer, tiempo de morir…

Bagpipes of Spain

Bagpipes of Spain, ye that can sing
That which is sweetest to us in the Spring!
You first sing of gladness and then sing of pain
As deep and as bitter as the billowed main.

Sing. 'Tis the season! As glad as the rain
My verses shall trip ye a jig or a fling.
Ecclesiastes said it again and again,
All things have their season, O bagpipes of Spain!—

A season to plant, a season to reap:
A season to sew, a season to tear;
A season to laugh, a season to weep;
Seasons for to hope and for to despair;
A season to love, a season to mate;
A season of birth, a season of Fate…

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Poem Edited: Wednesday, January 18, 2012

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