Que tragedia es una vida malgastada,
persiguiendo lo que el orgullo pide,
a lo largo a veces uno lo percibe,
al ver cerca el final, lejos la entrada.
Nunca pensé ser yo quien destacaba,
Shakespeare en Macbeth cuando el describe,
la vida “sombra caminante” y la mide,
como “un cuento de un idiota . . . nada.”
Cuando se cerraron todos los portales,
que apuntaban a otros horizontes?
no me di cuenta, trepando por montes,
que no eran mas que tinieblas irreales.
Que ser honesto puede encontrar paz,
cuando la misma solo queda atrás?
A Wasted Life [English translation]
What a tragedy is a wasted life,
Chasing that which pride craves,
In time sometimes we come to realize,
When our entrance is far, the exit near.
I never thought it would apply to me,
When Shakespeare's Macbeth describes,
Life as a "walking shadow" and rates it,
A "tale told by an idiot . . . nothing."
When did all open doors close,
That led to other horizons?
I never noticed it, climbing mountains,
That were but insubstantial shadows.
What honest being can ever find peace,
Knowing it lies only in the past?
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
Que tragedia es una vida malgastada,
persiguiendo lo que el orgullo pide,
a lo largo a veces uno lo percibe,
al ver cerca el final, lejos la entrada.
Nunca pensé ser yo quien destacaba,
Shakespeare en Macbeth cuando el describe,
la vida “sombra caminante” y la mide,
como “un cuento de un idiota . . . nada.”
Cuando se cerraron todos los portales,
que apuntaban a otros horizontes?
no me di cuenta, trepando por montes,
que no eran mas que tinieblas irreales.
Que ser honesto puede encontrar paz,
cuando la misma solo queda atrás?
A Wasted Life [English translation]
What a tragedy is a wasted life,
Chasing that which pride craves,
In time sometimes we come to realize,
When our entrance is far, the exit near.
I never thought it would apply to me,
When Shakespeare's Macbeth describes,
Life as a "walking shadow" and rates it,
A "tale told by an idiot . . . nothing."
When did all open doors close,
That led to other horizons?
I never noticed it, climbing mountains,
That were but insubstantial shadows.
What honest being can ever find peace,
Knowing it lies only in the past?
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