Regrettably, I don't know the name of the person who so generously translated the verse vertabim on his blog, but I must say that I like the translation! Its another one from the book, Poets of Nicaragua, which is out of print..alas, but some of the verses can be found on the web. Nicaragua was bombed by the USA in the seventies, and these are the writers which emerged in the aftermath; its a fascinating look at the disparate voices queuing for attention. Really, the book is so beautiful and conveys all the longings of the Nicaraguans, as well as their confusion and awesome hope.


El barco negro
Cifar, entre su sueño oyó los gritos
y el ululante caracol en la neblina
del alba. Miró el barco
—inmóvil—
fijo entre las olas.

—Si oyes
en la oscura
mitad de la noche
—en aguas altas—
gritos que preguntan
por el puerto:
dobla el timón
y huye

Recortado en la espuma
el casco oscuro y carcomido,
(—¡Marinero!, gritaban—)
las jarcias rotas
meciéndose y las velas
negras y podridas
(—¡Marinero!—)
Puesto de pie, Cifar, abrazó el mástil

—Si la luna
ilumina los rostros
cenizos y barbudos
si te dicen
—Marinero ¿dónde vamos?
Si te imploran:
—¡Marinero enséñanos
el puerto!
¡dobla el timón
y huye!

Hace tiempo zarparon
Hace siglos navegan en el sueño

Son tus propias preguntas
perdidas en el tiempo. The Black Boat
Cifar, inside his dream he heard the cries,
the ululating conch out in the mist
of dawn. He saw the boat
—immobile—
fixed among the waves.

—If you hear
within the dark
middle of the night
—on high seas—
cries, cries that beg you
for the port:
turn your tiller back
and flee

Outlined in the raging surf
the boat's hull dark and eaten away,
(crying, —O Seafarer!—)
the broken rigging
swaying and the sails
black and rotting
(—O Seafarer!—)
On his feet, Cifar embraced the mast

—If the moon
lights up their faces
ashy, bearded, jinxed
if they ask you
—Seafarer, where you going?
If they implore you:
—Seafarer, show us the way
to the port!—
turn your tiller back
and flee!

They set sail long ago
They're sailing for ages, in the dream

The questions are your own
forgotten in the ages