Poesías propuestas para el concurso de la Unión Europea en CCH-Ote

Bélgica

Le dernier port
(Chanson de fou)

Encore un printemps mort,
Encore un an qui fuit…
Nous entrerons au port
Quand tombera la nuit.

Nous entrerons au port
Quand nous n’y verrons plus.
Nous y serons encore
Quand nous ne serons plus…

Ceux qui l’avaient cherché
Ne l’ont pas encore vu…
Ils n’avaient rien trouvé,
Ils avaient tout perdu…

Ils trouveront ici
Ce qu’ils cherchaient encore
Et dans l’eau de la mort
Ils sombreront aussi…

Maurice MAETERLINCK, Chansons (1923)

Francia

Pour toi mon amour

Je suis allé au marche aux oiseaux
Et j'ai acheté des oiseaux
Pour toi
Mon amour

Je suis allé au marche aux fleurs
Et j'ai acheté des fleurs
Pour toi
Mon amour

Je suis allé au marche a la ferraille
Et j'ai acheté des chaines
De lourdes chaines
Pour toi
Mon amour

Et puis je suis allé au marche aux esclaves
Et je t'ai cherchée
Mais je ne t'ai pas trouvée
Mon amour

Jacques PREVERT, Paroles (1946)

Luxemburgo

Arbre

Arbre
                   Mon ami
        mon pareil à moi
        si lourd de musique
        sous les doigts
                        du vent
        qui te feuillettent
                         comme un conte de fées

Arbre
      qui comme moi
      connais la voix du silence

Arbre
       pareil à moi
       console-moi
       d'être seulement
       MOI !

Henri HARY, Fluctuations, Rêves... ou réalités ?...(1992)

Inglaterra

THE TYGER

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William BLAKE, Songs of experience, (1794)


[Poem]

I feel I am, I only know I am,
   And plod upon the earth as dull and void;
Earth's prison chilled my body with its dram
   Of dullness, and my soaring thoughts destroyed.
I fled to solitude from passion's dream,
    But strife pursued: I only know I am.
I was a being created in the race
    Of men, disdaining bounds of place and time:
A spirit that could travel o'er the space
    Of earth and heaven like a thought sublime;
Tracing creation, like my Maker free,
    A soul unshackled like eternity:
Spurning earth's vain and soul-debasing thrall ---
But now I only know I am, that's all.

John CLARE, (1935)


Sonnet: To the River Otter

Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!
   How many various-fated years have passed,
   What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Numbering its light leaps! Yet so deep impressed
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
   I never shut amid the sunny ray,
But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,
   Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,
And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes,
Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my way,
   Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
   Ah! that once more I were a careless child!

Samuel TAYLOR COLERIDGE, Sonnet, (1796)

Irlanda

Song

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.

Seamus HEANEY, Field Work (1976)