«The Serenade», traducción al inglés del poema «La Serenata», de José Manuel Marroquín

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José Manuel Marroquín, retrato.
 
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Ahora que los ladros perran,
ahora que los cantos gallan,
ahora que albando la toca
las altas suenas campanan;
y que los rebuznos burran,
y que los gorjeos pájaran
y que los silbos serenan
y que los gruños marranan
y que la aurorada rosa
los extensos doros campa,
perlando líquidas viertas
cual yo lágrimo derramas
y friando de tirito
si bien el abrasa almada,
vengo a suspirar mis lanzos
ventano de tus debajas.
Tú en tanto duerma tranquiles
en tu rega camalada
ingratándote así burla
de las amas del que te ansia.
¡Oh, ventánate a tu asoma!
¡Persiane un poco la abra
y suspire los recibos
que esta pobra exhale alma!
Ven, endecha las escuchas
en que mi exhala se alma
que un milicio de musicas
me flauta con su compaña,
en tinieblo de las medias
de esta madruga oscurada.
Ven y haz miradar tus brillas
a fin de angustiar mis calmas.
Esas tus arcas son cejos
con que flechando disparas
Cupido peche mi hiero
y ante tus postras me planta.
Tus estrellos son dos ojas,
tus rosos son como labias,
tus perles son como dientas,
tu palme como una talla,
tu cisne como el de un cuello,
un garganto tu alabastra,
tus tornos hechos a brazo,
tu reinar como el de un anda.
Y por eso horo a estas vengas
a rejar junto a tus cantas
¡y a suspirar mis exhalos
ventano de tus debajas! 
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(Translation)
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Now that the barks are doging,
now that the sings are roosting,
now that the come is dawning
the rings in the heights are belling;
and that the brays are donkeying,
and that the trills are birding
and that the whistle watchmans
and that the grunts are piging
and that the break of daypink
is fielding the wide gilds,
while pearling liquid spills
just like I’m tearing sheds,
also colding of shiver
even if burn is souling,
I come and my throws I sigh
here windowneath your unders.
Meanwhile you sleeply calm
and stay in your beded flatter,
thanking fun, you, makeless,
of the loving of your yearner.
Oh, look window your out!
Open a blind your bit,
sigh all of my receivings
a miserable breathe is souling!
Come and dirge the heares
in which my exhale is souled,
that a milician musitia
flutes me here on accompany
in the darkle of the middness
of this obscuring being morned.
Come and make look your shine
only to anguish my calm.
These eyebows are your brows
with which by narrowing shoots
Cupid is hearting my hurt
and I solate by your postres.
A pair of eyes are your stars,
the lips are like your roses,
the teeth that are like your pearls,
your palm that is like a waist,
your swan that is like a neck,
could be alabastneck your ter,
your lathes that were made by arms,
your queen like the one of a walk.
Then at this come I time
to grille beside your sing:
to breathe my exhales
here windowneath your unders!
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Translation: Alfredo Salvador C. García.
November 17th, 2014. Mexico City.

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