Cup of light and gall

Here’s an unchecked and unpolished translation of something from 1955 by Manuel Altolaguirre:

Here’s an unchecked and unpolished translation of something from 1955 by Manuel Altolaguirre:

Before my death a tree
is growing in my tomb.

The branches fill the sky,
the stars are its fruit
and in my body I feel the rubbing
of its deep roots.

I am buried in grief,
and in me grows a column
which supports the firmament,
cup of light and gall.

If the night is so sad,
it is sad through my fault.

We normally couple gall and wormwood, but the name of the order behind the internal links provides context for Altolaguirre, relevant or not.

Here’s the original:

Antes de mi muerte, un árbol
está creciendo en mi tumba.

Las ramas llenan el cielo,
las estrellas son sus frutas
y en mi cuerpo siento el roce
de sus raíces profoundas.

Estoy enterrado en penas,
y crece en mí una columna
que sostiene al firmamento,
copa de luz y amargura.

Si está tan triste la noche
está triste por mi culpa.

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