| "Walt Whitman" ~Rubén Darío |
| En su país de hierro vive el gran viejo, bello como un patriarca, sereno y santo. Tiene en la arruga olímpica de su entrecejo algo que impera y vence con noble encanto. Su alma del infinito parece espejo; son sus cansados hombros dignos del manto; y con arpa labrada de un roble añejo como un profeta nuevo canta su canto. Sacerdote, que alienta soplo divino, anuncia en el futuro, tiempo mejor. Dice el águila: «¡Vuela!», «¡Boga!», al marino, y «¡Trabaja!», al robusto trabajador. ¡Así va ese poeta por su camino con su soberbio rostro de emperador! | In your country of iron lives an old sage, beautiful as a patriarch, saintly and calm. On the Olympian wrinkles of his brow lays something that rules and conquers with noble charm. His soul of the infinite seems a mirror; His are the tired dignified men of the stole; and with a scrolled harp from an aged oak like a new prophet he sounds and sings his song. A priest, who with divine breath blows, announces a better time for the future. He tells the eagle: "Fly!"; the mariner: "Row!", and "Work!" he shouts to the robust worker. So on his course this poet goes with the magnificent face of an emperor! |
