"If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark." St. John of the Cross
I wrote that little tidbit in a journal two or three years ago. It was true to me then and even truer now, as I yet struggle to find my way in the dark. This morning, after not quite three hours of not quite sleep once again, I went to find something to stimulate my mind, and I rediscovered those words. So... when I went agoogling for information, I ended up finding the following, from here:
I wrote that little tidbit in a journal two or three years ago. It was true to me then and even truer now, as I yet struggle to find my way in the dark. This morning, after not quite three hours of not quite sleep once again, I went to find something to stimulate my mind, and I rediscovered those words. So... when I went agoogling for information, I ended up finding the following, from here:
The Dark Night Of The Soul
By Saint John of the Cross
translated by A.Z. Foreman
Songs of the soul rejoicing at having achieved the high state of perfection, the Union with God, by way of spiritual negation.
Once in a dark of night,
Inflamed with love and wanting, I arose
(O coming of delight!)
And went, as no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose
All in the dark went right,
Down secret steps, disguised in other clothes,
(O coming of delight!)
In dark when no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose.
And in the luck of night
In secret places where no other spied
I went without my sight
Without a light to guide
Except the heart that lit me from inside.
It guided me and shone
Surer than noonday sunlight over me,
And lead me to the one
Whom only I could see
Deep in a place where only we could be.
O guiding dark of night!
O dark of night more darling than the dawn!
O night that can unite
A lover and loved one,
A lover and loved one moved in unison.
And on my flowering breast
Which I had kept for him and him alone
He slept as I caressed
And loved him for my own,
Breathing an air from redolent cedars blown.
And from the castle wall
The wind came down to winnow through his hair
Bidding his fingers fall,
Searing my throat with air
And all my senses were suspended there.
I stayed there to forget.
There on my lover, face to face, I lay.
All ended, and I let
My cares all fall away
Forgotten in the lilies on that day.
The Original:
La Noche Oscura Del Alma
San Juan De La Cruz
Cançiones del alma que se goça d’auer llegado al alto estado de la perfecçion, que es la union con Dios, por el camino de la negaçion espiritual
En una noche obscura,
con ansias en amores imflamada,
¡oh dichosa uentura!
sali sin ser notada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada.
Abscuras y segura,
por la secreta escala disfraçada,
¡oh dichosa uentura!
a escuras y ençelada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada.
En la noche dichosa,
en secreto, que nadie me ueya,
ni yo miraua cosa,
sin otra luz ni guia
sino la que en el coraçon ardia.
Aquesta me guiaua
mas cierto que la luz del mediodia,
adonde me esperaua
quien yo bien me sabia,
en parte donde nadie parecia.
¡Oh noche que me guiaste!
¡oh noche amable mas que el aluorada!,
¡oh noche que juntaste
amado con amada,
amada en el amado transformada!
Y en mi pecho florido,
que entero para el solo se guardaua,
alli quedo dormido,
y yo le regalaua,
y el ventalle de cedros ayre daua.
El ayre de la almena,
cuando ya sus cabellos esparzia,
con su mano serena
en mi cuello heria,
y todos mis sentidos suspendia.
Quedeme y oluideme,
el rostro recline sobre el amado,
ceso todo, y dexeme,
dexando mi cuidado
entre las açucenas olvidado.
Knowing but a few words in Spanish, I cannot comment on the literal translation itself, but I find this rendering to be both beautiful and poetic, being, as much as I can discern, far from cut, translate, paste. I say this of course having only a great fondness and appreciation for the written word, poetry in particular, and how it flows off the tongue in any language. Myself not being much for regret in my life or envy of another's, I find that I feel a touch of envy for this young man's thirst for knowledge and passion for linguisitics. The funny thing about this is that I have always considered myself as being devoid of passion, or deep emotion, and yet this work speaks to me on an even deeper level.
By Saint John of the Cross
translated by A.Z. Foreman
Songs of the soul rejoicing at having achieved the high state of perfection, the Union with God, by way of spiritual negation.
Once in a dark of night,
Inflamed with love and wanting, I arose
(O coming of delight!)
And went, as no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose
All in the dark went right,
Down secret steps, disguised in other clothes,
(O coming of delight!)
In dark when no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose.
And in the luck of night
In secret places where no other spied
I went without my sight
Without a light to guide
Except the heart that lit me from inside.
It guided me and shone
Surer than noonday sunlight over me,
And lead me to the one
Whom only I could see
Deep in a place where only we could be.
O guiding dark of night!
O dark of night more darling than the dawn!
O night that can unite
A lover and loved one,
A lover and loved one moved in unison.
And on my flowering breast
Which I had kept for him and him alone
He slept as I caressed
And loved him for my own,
Breathing an air from redolent cedars blown.
And from the castle wall
The wind came down to winnow through his hair
Bidding his fingers fall,
Searing my throat with air
And all my senses were suspended there.
I stayed there to forget.
There on my lover, face to face, I lay.
All ended, and I let
My cares all fall away
Forgotten in the lilies on that day.
The Original:
La Noche Oscura Del Alma
San Juan De La Cruz
Cançiones del alma que se goça d’auer llegado al alto estado de la perfecçion, que es la union con Dios, por el camino de la negaçion espiritual
En una noche obscura,
con ansias en amores imflamada,
¡oh dichosa uentura!
sali sin ser notada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada.
Abscuras y segura,
por la secreta escala disfraçada,
¡oh dichosa uentura!
a escuras y ençelada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada.
En la noche dichosa,
en secreto, que nadie me ueya,
ni yo miraua cosa,
sin otra luz ni guia
sino la que en el coraçon ardia.
Aquesta me guiaua
mas cierto que la luz del mediodia,
adonde me esperaua
quien yo bien me sabia,
en parte donde nadie parecia.
¡Oh noche que me guiaste!
¡oh noche amable mas que el aluorada!,
¡oh noche que juntaste
amado con amada,
amada en el amado transformada!
Y en mi pecho florido,
que entero para el solo se guardaua,
alli quedo dormido,
y yo le regalaua,
y el ventalle de cedros ayre daua.
El ayre de la almena,
cuando ya sus cabellos esparzia,
con su mano serena
en mi cuello heria,
y todos mis sentidos suspendia.
Quedeme y oluideme,
el rostro recline sobre el amado,
ceso todo, y dexeme,
dexando mi cuidado
entre las açucenas olvidado.
Knowing but a few words in Spanish, I cannot comment on the literal translation itself, but I find this rendering to be both beautiful and poetic, being, as much as I can discern, far from cut, translate, paste. I say this of course having only a great fondness and appreciation for the written word, poetry in particular, and how it flows off the tongue in any language. Myself not being much for regret in my life or envy of another's, I find that I feel a touch of envy for this young man's thirst for knowledge and passion for linguisitics. The funny thing about this is that I have always considered myself as being devoid of passion, or deep emotion, and yet this work speaks to me on an even deeper level.
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