Unamuno, “To the Sick Child”
 

Version 2

Slumber, flower of my life,
     in calm perfection,
dreaming is, for suffering,
     your one protection.

Slumber, my poorest baby,
     enjoy without grief
that which Death will offer you
     as pledge of relief.

As a comfort and token
     of your preciousness
that you may know, my poor child,
     her tender fondness.

Soon she will come with longing,
     gathering your last breath,
she who loves you so sweetly,
     the angel of death.

You will sleep eternal sleep
     in her loving arms,
and for you, my dearest child,
     no more frosty harms.

Nevermore will winter’s snow,
     my severed flower, be;
she’ll sing to you in silence
     the sweetest melody.

Oh, what a sorrowful smile
     dimples your sweet face . . .
perhaps her finger touches
     your heart with God’s grace.

Oh, what a downhearted smile
     makes your soft lips purse,
what do you say while dreaming
     to the angelic nurse?

Your saintly, immortal nurse,
     in holy peace, goes
to the land where all may find
     heavenly repose.

When the Sun lifts up his head
     my poor little star,
having melted into dawn
     with her you’ll go far.

You will die with light of dawn,
     death’s blossom, you wait,
wretched life rejecting you—
     What a lovely fate!

Sleep the dream that never ends,
     in calm perfection;
Death is, for your suffering,
     your one protection.


Version 1

Sleep, little child;
the crocodile comes in a huff
to carry off the children
who do not sleep enough.
—Popular Song

Sleep, flower of my life,
     sleep in calm perfection;
for dreaming is, for suffering,
     your only true protection.

Sleep my poorest child,
     enjoy it without grief;
that which Death will offer you
     as a token of relief.

As a comfort and a token
     of your preciousness to me
you may know, my poor child,
     that she loves you abundantly.

Soon she will come with longing
     to gather your final breath,
she who loves you so much,
     the angel of sweet Death.

You will sleep an eternal sleep
     embraced in her loving arms
and for you, my dearest child,
     will be no more frosty harms.

No more winter or snow,
     my cut flower, will there be;
she will sing to you in silence
     the sweetest melody.

Oh, what a rueful smile
     dimples your little face . . .
perhaps her finger touches
     your heart with holy grace.

Oh, what a mournful smile
     causes your lips to purse;
what do you say in your dreaming
     to your angelic nurse?

Your immortal nurse,
     always saintly, goes
to the Land where all in holy peace
     find heavenly repose.

When the Sun will rise
     my poorest little star;
having melted into the dawn
     with her you’ll travel far.

You will die with the dawn,
     flower of death, as you wait,
wretched life rejects you.
     What a lovely fate!

Sleep the dream that never ends,
     sleep in calm perfection;
for death is, for your suffering,
     the only true protection.


Original Spanish Text
from Unamuno, Miguel de. Poesías. Bilbao: José Rojas, 1907, pp133-135.

Duerme, niño chiquito
que viene el Coco,
á llevarse á los niños
que duermen poco.
—Popular.

Duerme, flor de mi vida,
     duerme tranquilo,
que es del dolor el sueño
     tu único asilo.

Duerme, mi pobre niño,
     goza sin duelo
lo que te da la Muerte
     como consuelo.

Como consuelo y prenda
     de su cariño,
de que te quiere mucho,
     mi pobre niño.

Pronto vendrá con ansia
     de recojerte
la que te quiere tanto,
     la dulce Muerte.

Dormirás en sus brazos
     el sueño eterno,
y para tí, mi niño,
     no habrá ya invierno.

No habrá invierno ni nieve
     mi flor tronchada,
te cantará en silencio
     dulce tonada.

Oh que triste sonrisa
     riza tu boca. . .
tu corazón acaso
     su mano toca.

Oh que sonrisa triste
     tu boca riza,
qué es lo que en sueño dices
     á tu nodriza?

Á tu nodriza eterna
     siempre piadosa,
la Tierra en que en paz santa
     todo reposa.

Cuando el Sol se levante,
     mi pobre estrella,
derretida en el alba
     te irás con ella.

Morirás con la aurora,
     flor de la muerte,
te rechaza la vida
     ¡qué hermosa suerte!

El sueño que no acaba
     duerme tranquilo,
que es del dolor la muerte
     tu único asilo.

(1900)


Crib

Sleep, flower of my life,
sleep tranquilly,
for sleeping/dreaming is for grief
your only asylum.

Sleep, my poor child,
enjoy without grief
that which Death gives you
as comfort.

As comfort and token
of your dearness,
for which she loves you very much
my poor child.

Soon she will come with craving/longing
to gather you,
she that loves you so much,
sweet Death.

You will sleep in her arms
the eternal sleep/dream,
and for you, my child,
There will be no more winter.

There will be no winter nor snow,
my cut flower,
she will sing to you in silence
a sweet tune.

Oh, what a sad smile
crinkles your mouth . . .
maybe her hand
touches your heart.

Oh, what a sad smile
dimples your mouth,
what is it that you say in your dream
to your nurse?

To your immortal nurse,
always pious/saintly, [is]
the Land in which in holy peace
everything rests.

When the Sun rises,
my poor star,
having melted into the dawn,
you will go with her.

You will die with the dawn,
flower of death,
life rejects you.
What beautiful luck!

Sleep the dream that does not end,
sleep tranquilly,
for death is from grief
your only asylum.

Hi, Glenn! Very busy this weekend, so two quick, general thoughts:

1) This poem seems to have been dated 1900 (handwritten in ink on the copy of Poesías I found online), but I know that the third of Unamuno's seven children, Raymundo (1896–1902), died of hydrocephaly due to meningitis at age six, and there's a poem titled "On the Death of a Son" later in the same collection.

2) Would you be game to try preserving the sense of a long line followed by a shorter line, which was characteristic of a lot of Unamuno's early poems? The odd-numbered lines in this poem are all seven syllables (after elision), and the even-numbered lines are all five syllables (after elision). That long-short dynamic adds a sort of rocking motion to this lullaby, I think. BTW, I found online videos of lullabies similar to the epigraph, but none of them had this 7-5-7-5 structure.

(I wondered if the 7-5-7-5 had anything to do with haiku, which was all the rage among Spanish-language poets around 1920, but this seems too early, and Unamuno was not a big fan of "japonismo"; he was very fond of a form of paper-folding of little birds (pajaritas), but that does not seem related to traditional Japanese origami, either. And other poems in this collection have long-short couplets with more syllables, e.g. 11-6.

Hi, Julie—

I always learn so much from you about the poems I translate and the art of translation.
I noticed the 7-5-7-5 syllable stanza structure, but until you pointed it out, I didn’t hear the rocking, lullaby rhythm. Once noticed, I wondered how I could have missed it.

I reworked the translation to accommodate the 7-5-7-5 pattern. It was surprisingly easy to do.
Thanks, too, for the background information on Unamuno’s family. Prior to antibiotics and vaccines, the death of children was common and expected. Religion provided the only hope and solace for grieving parents. I have not suffered the death of a child, but I found this poem very touching, especially the image of a little star melting into dawn.

Thanks so much for your generous and expert help.

Glenn

Hello, Glenn,

I'm happy to see you've revised this, taking into account the alternating 7-5-7-5 syllabic pattern of the stanzas Julie pointed out. Now, your tetrameter-trimeter alternation is a better justification for your indentation pattern than just rhyme alone. Also, the cadence aligns better with the original. And thanks for providing the crib, which I couldn't find initially.

The translation itself is well done, and it's pretty faithful to the original but for the occasional liberties here and there—unavoidable in such a translation. For instance, with:

Morirás con la aurora,
      flor de la muerte,
te rechaza la vida
      ¡qué hermosa suerte!

you have:

You will die with light of dawn,
      death’s blossom, you wait,
wretched life rejecting you—
      What a lovely fate!

where "... you wait" is extra, for rhyme, and not really there in the original. Still, even in with that, "death's blossom at the gate" might be closer in meaning and with smoother meter.

Overall, great job with the translation, Glenn!

Cheers,
...Alex

Hi, Alex—

Thanks for your encouragement and thoughtful critiques. Julie’s suggestion to use the 7-5-7-5 syllable stanza form was excellent advice.

In S11, I justify the “you wait” because “morirás” is in the future tense, so the N is addressing the child who is literally waiting to die at dawn.

I found the following article that may shed some light on the specific medical issues that led to the death of “Raymundín,” Unamuno’s hydrocephalic son. The poem referred to as “Lullaby for a Sick Child” is this poem. A couple of stanzas are quoted in the article. It seems that the hydrocephaly was either congenital or caused by meningitis contracted in the first few weeks of life. Raymundín never acquired language and had profound intellectual disability. He was able to crawl up his father’s leg to be kissed, according to Unamuno’s diary. The author of this article makes the case that Raymundín’s disability and death were the main reasons for Unamuno’s complicated faith and his difficulties with the Catholic Church.

https://nah.sen.es/vmfiles/abstract/...1853_60_EN.pdf


Glenn