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Esta en forma elegante, oh peregrino,
de pórfido luciente dura llave,
el pincel niega al mundo más süave,
que dio espíritu a leño, vida a lino.
Su nombre, aún de mayor aliento dino
que en los clarines de la Fama cabe,
el campo ilustra de ese mármol grave;
venéralo y prosigue tu camino.
Yace el Griego. Heredó Naturaleza
Arte; y el Arte, estudio. Iris, colores.
Febo, luces (si no sombras, Morfeo).
Tanta urna, a pesar de su dureza,
lágrimas beba, y cuantos suda olores
corteza funeral de árbol sabeo.
This in graceful form, oh pilgrim,
a solid key of porphyry gleaming brightly
denies the world the softest brush
which ever wood gave soul, or canvas gave life.
His name, deserving even greater breath
than Fame needs for her clarion fanfare,
this field of marble amplifies:
venerate it and be on your way.
Here lies the Greek. to Nature he bequeathed Art,
To Art, learning.
To the Rainbow, colors.
To Phoebus, the bright, to Morpheus his somber tones.
May this great urn, despite its hardness,
drink tears and all the odors in the sweat
of the funereal bark of the Arabian tree.
–Luís de Góngora, Inscripción para el sepulcro
de Domínico Greco (1610)(S.H. transl.)
More from Scott Horton:
Six Questions — October 18, 2014, 8:00 pm
Nathaniel Raymond on CIA interrogation techniques.
Number of people who attended the World Grits Festival, held in St. George, South Carolina, last spring:
The brown bears of Greece continued chewing through telephone poles.
In Peru, a 51-year-old activist became the first former sex worker to run for the national legislature. “I’m going to put order,” she said, “in that big brothel which is Congress.”
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“Civilization masks us with a screen, from ourselves and from one another, with thin depth of unreality. We habitually live — do we not? — in a world self-created, half established, of false values arbitrarily upheld, largely inspired by misconception, misapprehension, wrong perspective, and defective proportion, misapplication.”