El regimiendo de los sentidos - Constantine Cavafy.
The regiment
of the senses
|
Constantinos
Cavafy
Speak not of guilt, speak
not of responsibility. When the Regiment of the Senses parades by, with music,
and with banners; when the senses shiver and shudder, it is only a fool and
an irreverent person that will keep his distance, who will not embrace the good
cause, marching towards the conquest of pleasures and passions.
All of morality’s laws – poorly understood and
applied – are nil and cannot stand even for a moment, when the Regiment of the
Senses parades by, with music, and with banners.
Do not permit any shadowy virtue to hold you back. Do not believe that any obligation binds you. Your duty is to give in, to always give in to Desires, these most perfect creatures of the perfect gods. Your duty is to enlist as a faithful footman, with simplicity of heart, when the Regiment of the Senses parades by, with music, and with banners.
Do not confine yourself at home, misleading yourself with theories of justice, with the preconceptions of reward, held by an imperfect society. Do not say, Such is my toil’s worth and such is my due to savor. Just as life is an inheritance, and you did nothing to earn it as a recompense, so should Sensual Pleasure be. Do not shut yourself at home; but keep the windows open, open wide, so as to hear the first sound of the passing of the soldiers, when the Regiment of the Senses arrives, with music, and with banners.
Do not be deceived by the blasphemers who tell you that the service is dangerous and laborious. The service of sensual pleasure is a constant joy. It does exhaust you, but it exhausts you with inebriations sublime. And finally, when you collapse in the street, even then your fortune is enviable. When your funeral will pass by, the Forms to which your desires gave shape will shower lilacs and white roses upon your coffin, young Olympian Gods will bear you on their shoulders, and you will be buried in the Cemetery of the Ideal, where the mausoleums of poetry gleam conspicuously white.
Do not permit any shadowy virtue to hold you back. Do not believe that any obligation binds you. Your duty is to give in, to always give in to Desires, these most perfect creatures of the perfect gods. Your duty is to enlist as a faithful footman, with simplicity of heart, when the Regiment of the Senses parades by, with music, and with banners.
Do not confine yourself at home, misleading yourself with theories of justice, with the preconceptions of reward, held by an imperfect society. Do not say, Such is my toil’s worth and such is my due to savor. Just as life is an inheritance, and you did nothing to earn it as a recompense, so should Sensual Pleasure be. Do not shut yourself at home; but keep the windows open, open wide, so as to hear the first sound of the passing of the soldiers, when the Regiment of the Senses arrives, with music, and with banners.
Do not be deceived by the blasphemers who tell you that the service is dangerous and laborious. The service of sensual pleasure is a constant joy. It does exhaust you, but it exhausts you with inebriations sublime. And finally, when you collapse in the street, even then your fortune is enviable. When your funeral will pass by, the Forms to which your desires gave shape will shower lilacs and white roses upon your coffin, young Olympian Gods will bear you on their shoulders, and you will be buried in the Cemetery of the Ideal, where the mausoleums of poetry gleam conspicuously white.
El
regimiento de los sentidos.
No hables de culpa, no hables de
responsabilidad. Cuando el Regimiento de los
Sentidos pase marchando, con música, con banderas; cuando los sentidos tiriten
y tiemblen, solo un tonto y un irreverente será aquella persona que
mantenga su distancia, que no abrace la buena causa, marchando hacia la
conquista de placeres y pasiones.
Todas las leyes de la moral – pobremente entendidas
y aplicadas – son nada y no se sostienen ni un momento, cuando el Regimiento de
los Sentidos pase marchando, con música y con banderas.
No permitas que una virtud oscura te detenga.
No creas que una obligación te ata. Tu deber
es rendirte, siempre rendirte a los Deseos, las criaturas más perfectas de los
dioses perfectos. Tu deber es enlistarte como un soldado creyente, con
sencillez de corazón, cuando el Regimiento de los Sentidos pase marchando con
música y con banderas.
No te confines a tu casa, engañándote
con teorías de justicia, con los prejuicios de un premio, sostenido por una sociedad
imperfecta. No digas, este es el precio
de mi esfuerzo y es la paga que disfruto.
Tal como la vida es una herencia, y no hiciste nada para merecerla como
recompensa, así debe ser el Placer Sensual. No te encierres tú mismo en casa;
sino que mantén tus ventanas abiertas, bien abiertas como para oír el primer sonido
del paso de los soldados, cuando el Regimiento de los Sentidos pase marchando
con música y con banderas.
No te dejes engañar de los blasfemos que
te dicen que el servicio es peligroso y difícil. El servir al placer sensual es
un disfrute constante. Te dejará
exhausto, pero lo hará con borracheras sublimes. Y finalmente, cuando caigas en
la calle, aun así tu fortuna es envidiable. Cuando tu funeral pase, las Formas a
las que tu deseo dibujó, dejarán llover lilas y rosas blancas sobre tu féretro,
dioses jóvenes del Olimpo te llevarán en sus hombros y serás enterrado en el
cementerio de los Ideal, donde los mausoleos de la poesía brillan con un blanco
brillante.
(Traducido de la versión en inglés http://www.cavafy.com/poems/content.asp?id=296&cat=5)
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