The following poem was originally composed by May Sarton, a 20th-century Belgian-American writer. I first encountered this poem in 2019 when I was going through a difficult breakup. I confided in a friend, melodramatically saying that I “had lost myself.” They countered by reciting this poem in its entirety, which at the time I found to be insensitive, as they were stealing my thunder. But as the poem has stuck with me, I’ve come to appreciate it as a gift.
Sarton is not a very famous writer, and I haven’t yet found an English – Spanish translation of her work. So, I gave it a go. But, I have translated only the first stanza, which I consider to be the most focused and illuminative.
Ahora vuelvo a ser yo Now I become myself Ahora vuelvo a ser yo. Había tomado Now I become myself. It's taken De tiempo atrás, muchos años y sitios; Time, many years and places; Me había disuelta y alterada I have been dissolved and shaken Usada las caras de otras I have worn other people's faces Corro tontamente Run madly, como si El Tiempo fuera allí As if Time were there, Abuelo fatal, grita una advertencia Terribly old, crying a warning "Ven, serás muerta antes de-" "Hurry, you will be dead before-" Qué? Antes de que llegas al alba? What? Before you reach the dawn? O realizas el fin de la poema? Or the end of the poem is clear?
cdzhouse 