Busco en la muerte la vida
Busco en la muerte la vida,
salud en la enfermedad,
en la prisión libertad,
en lo cerrado salida
y en el traidor lealtad.
Pero mi suerte, de quien
jamás espero algún bien,
con el cielo ha estatuido,
que, pues lo imposible pido,
lo posible aún no me den.
Looking death in life - M. Cervantes
Looking death in life,
health disease
freedom in prison,
closed as output
the traitor and loyalty.
But my luck, who,
I hope never any good,
has ruled the sky,
that ask for the impossible,
I can not even give me.
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Just as certain as horrid dreamscapes unfolded in his
Head,
The sword unsheathed chopping limbs for the Church,
He slept on one side in the filth of the barn:
And the dream came suddenly on:
The arm he lopped off
And the bony knob left behind wiggled-
Now he sleeps in yellow dirt
And flies breach his armor argent.
It was a good and glorious fight;
A grand plight;
His steed bounding through the peasants' thickets
As he torched the delapidated shacks,
And the crows on every fencepost
Crowing his Kingdom with a cackle.
Then the unarmed man came running with a stick,
Swinging without chance or grace-
There went his arm. Did he also run him through?
It was an unpleasant meadering of thought
That running him through, unarmed in two ways.
What did the House of Blanco want anymore?
For this was indeed the knight, Blanco.
His killing must stop
Or go on for a thousand years.
He must earn a respite.
He must stop on a rail.
Or he must turn tail.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it. A great write.