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Today Like Yesterday
by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870)
translated by Paul Burgess
Today like yesterday, tomorrow like today:
___A sky of only grays,
An endless horizon that goes on, changeless, dull,
___The same across the days;
The heart’s repeated mindless pounding, like machines’
___Insistent pulsing beep;
A brain lethargic in a corner, intellect
___And higher thoughts asleep;
A soul desiring Paradise, seeking but not
___Believing it will reach that shore;
An aimless weariness; a rolling wave, not sure
___Of what it’s rolling for;
A ceaseless voice that sings without a shift in tone
___Or change in key or song;
A waterdrop, monotonous that falls the same,
___Each time as short or long.
Thus pass the days like tethered cars connected in
___An endless cargo train—
Today the same as yesterday, a life devoid
___Of pleasure and of pain.
At times, I sigh recalling what I felt before:
___Those pangs of woe and strife—
A taste I’d welcome now; the bitter pain, the mark
___Of souls that pulse with life.
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Translator’s Note: For readers’ reference, I have included the original poem in Spanish. My verse translation seeks to balance preserving the meaning and spirit of the original with maintaining its musicality. The original poem uses quatrains of alternating hexameter and trimeter with an ABCB rhyme scheme. To echo this rhythm in English, I have used alternating lines of iambic pentameter and trimeter. I feel this approach captures the essence of the original while also sounding natural and suitably elevated in English. While I have aimed for fidelity, I have made intentional changes to certain phrases and lines where these adjustments enhance the poem’s readability and rhythm in English.
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Original Spanish
“Rima LVI: Hoy como ayer, mañana como hoy”
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870)
Hoy como ayer, mañana como hoy,
¡y siempre igual!
un cielo gris, un horizonte eterno,
¡y andar… andar!
Moviéndose a compás, como una estúpida
máquina, el corazón;
la torpe inteligencia, del cerebro
dormía en un rincón.
El alma, que ambiciona un paraíso,
buscándolo sin fe;
fatiga, sin objeto, ola que rueda
ignorando por qué.
Voz que incesante con el mismo tono
canta el mismo cantar;
gota de agua monótona que cae,
y cae sin cesar.
Así van deslizándose los días
unos de otros en pos,
hoy lo mismo que ayer… y todos ellos
sin goce ni dolor.
¡Ay! a veces me acuerdo suspirando
del antiguo sufrir…
Amargo es el dolor; pero siquiera
¡padecer es vivir!
.
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Paul Burgess, an emerging poet, is the sole proprietor of a business in Lexington, Kentucky that offers ESL classes in addition to English, Japanese, and Spanish-language translation and interpretation services. He has an M.A. in English with a concentration in the Renaissance and once earned a fellowship at the Folger Shakespeare Library. He has contributed work to Blue Unicorn, The Orchards, Flash Phantoms, and several other publications and has recently started writing short fiction
Paul, that was an enjoyable read. Without more than a slight knowledge of Spanish, I still feel that your translation caught the spirit of the poem. It was a sad regret for a life moving along without fire, without the purpose TO BE. I think we may have all felt that need to break the monotony and forge a new path.
I know such things don’t always translate well but I think you have done it.
I really appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. Bécquer is one of my favorite poets. I feel like it’s impossible to capture all of the music and beauty in another language, but I still think it’s worth trying.
Still, in English, I found it worthwhile to reread it a number of times. It spoke directly to the emotional side of my mind rather than being relayed there by the logical mind. I thank you for presenting it.
Paul, your nicely done translation inspires me to return my attention to the many partially completed Spanish translations of my own.
Becquer was a quintessential Romantic, in the Romantic tradition of longing for an escape from mundane tedium into a imagined world that transcends it. Look at his wonderful poem that begins “Yo soy morena, yo soy ardiente, yo soy el simbolo de la pasion…” It calls for a flight from the real to the unattainable sublime. And Becquer likes to use the exclamation point — a tendency that he may have picked up from Shelley.
This particular piece is essentially a lament on the dull routine of existence. The English translation is quite faithful to the Spanish, even though Burgess must find equivalents in rhyme for the even lines of each quatrain. That’s hard to do.
Hello, Paul. This is an excellent translation, with meaning and form well balanced. I just want to analyze one of your stanzas and compare it with the original Spanish.
In Spanish, lines of six syllables are called hexasílabos, while those having twelve syllables are called dodecasílabo. Spanish verse is usually in syllabic meter, so the prosody words used in English (such as hexameter) don’t usually apply, although hexameter can be approximated, according to this page on Wikipedia:
https://es.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hex%C3%A1metro
You also write, “I have used alternating lines of iambic pentameter and trimeter.” I think you mean hexameter rather than pentameter, since your longer lines seem to be in hexameter.
While we still have many machines and assembly lines, in our day we also have computer and phone screens with which to dull our minds. We seem to spend a lot of time in our own corners or echo chambers.
Moviéndose a compás, como una estúpida
máquina, el corazón;
la torpe inteligencia, del cerebro
dormía en un rincón.
(12-6-12-6 syllables)
[literal translation]
Moving in time, like a stupid
machine, the heart;
the dull intelligence of the brain
was sleeping in a corner.
The heart’s repeated mindless pounding, like machines’
Insistent pulsing beep;
A brain lethargic in a corner, intellect
And higher thoughts asleep;
(iambic hexameter, trimeter, hexameter, trimeter)
I made a similar type of translation when I translated “Romance del rey Rodrigo” (“The Ballad of King Rodrigo”) from lines of octosílabos in assonant rhyme into English ballad stanzas. Here is the first stanza:
Los vientos eran contrarios,
la luna estaba crecida,
los peces daban gemidos
por el mal tiempo que hacía,
(8-8-8-8 syllables; assonant rhyme)
[literal translation]
The winds were opposed (headwinds),
the moon was full,
the fish were moaning
because of the bad weather,
The howling winds were all opposed.
The moon was full and bright.
The fish bemoaned the weather of
that fateful, stormy night.
(iambic tetrameter, trimeter, tetrameter, trimeter)
This is fascinating. Thank you for sharing! I really like the approach you have taken to translating these lines.
I don’t know any Spanish, but having attempted translations from Hindi/Urdu I think it must be so hard to maintain both the sentiment and adhere to a metric interpretation. I find Alan Steinle’s analysis and example very interesting. Any which way, what a beautiful poem and certainly I enjoyed it immensely.
Paul, you’ve made good word choices to render the considerable variety of expressions Becquer uses for dullness and emptiness. The ones involving voice and song are especially noteworthy (or at least touching, from my point of view).
Your English meter is, as Alan Steinle points out, alternating hexameter and trimeter. This is in accentual English as opposed to syllabic Spanish, but the correspondence is close. It works well. I do, though, agree with you that English hexameter can sound stilted or broken, and sometimes 12-syllable Romance language poems sound best in English pentameter. As translator, you are producing an English poem, and must judge its quality as such. This one, I believe, is a remarkably attractive version of Becquer’s lament for his lost emotions.
Paul, this is a wonderful translation of a poem which beautifully expresses the sad idea of Weltschmerz — that world-weariness which seems to be an inevitable part of life. I have a smattering of Spanish and find your translation to be remarkably faithful to the original both in meaning and poetic effect. I enjoyed this very much despite its melancholy “grayness.” Thank you for introducing me to Sr. Bécquer. I can see why he’s a favorite of yours!
Bravo on an excellent translation! You’ve managed to remain faithful to the original in both language and form, which is one of the most daunting challenges of translating poetry. I also love to see Bécquer presented to an English-speaking audience. He is one of my favorite Spanish-language poets, and you’ve picked one of his masterpieces.
I meant to say “iambic hexameter” in my translator’s note. Thank you all for pointing out the mistake. I will ask for permission to edit the note. I also appreciate everyone taking the time to read the poem and comment on it. It is a pleasure to share poetry with likeminded readers and writers.
I felt like I was adrift on an ever-unchanging ocean. Nicely done, Paul.
The ‘cargo train’ was interesting considering I had placed myself on a voyage of discovery. Strangely, it didn’t jar, but seemed to fit right in. Excellent image.
Thanks for the read, Paul.