Bartolome Leonardo de Argensola

Bartolome Leonardo de Argensola Poems

Bartolome Leonardo de Argensola Biography

Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola (August 1562 – February 4, 1631), Spanish poet and historian, was baptized at Barbastro on August 26, 1562. He studied at Huesca, took orders, and was presented to the rectory of Villahermosa in 1588. He was attached to the suite of the count de Lemos, viceroy of Naples, in 1610, and succeeded his brother as historiographer of Aragon in 1613. He died at Saragossa on the 4th of February 1631. His principal prose works are the Conquista de las Islas Molucas (1609), and a supplement to Zurita's Anales de Aragón, which was published in 1630. His poems (1634), like those of his elder brother, are admirably finished examples of pungent wit. His commentaries on contemporary events, and his Alteraciones populares, dealing with a Saragossa rising in 1591, are lost. An interesting life of this writer by Father Miguel Mir precedes a reprint of the Conquista de las Islas Molucas, issued at Saragossa in 1891.)

The Best Poem Of Bartolome Leonardo de Argensola

A Una Mujer Que Se Afeitaba Y Estaba Hermosa

Yo os quiero confesar, don Juan, primero,
que aquel blanco y color de doña Elvira
no tiene de ella más, si bien se mira,
que el haberle costado su dinero.
Pero tras eso confesaros quiero
que es tanta la beldad de su mentira,
que en vano a competir con ella aspira
belleza igual de rostro verdadero.

Mas ¿qué mucho que yo perdido ande
por un engaño tal, pues que sabemos
que nos engaña así Naturaleza?

Porque ese cielo azul que todos vemos,
ni es cielo ni es azul. ¡Lástima grande
que no sea verdad tanta belleza!




To a woman who wore makeup and looked beautiful

At first, Sir John, I must confess to you
that Lady Helen's white and ruby glow
is only hers, if truth is to be told,
in that her money's spent to make it so.
But after that I also must confess
the beauty of her lie is so extreme
that never could a rival hope to try
her loveliness to best by natural means.

Yet do not be surprised that my desire
pursues this clear deceit, since we all know
that Nature's ways are surely devious too:

for that blue heaven that we all admire
is neither blue nor heaven. What a shame
that such great beauty should be so untrue!

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