Autumnal

They go, the hours diminishing our lives
     And with them tender visions fade away,
Yet each nostalgic moment that survives
     Grows stronger in my heart each passing day;
The memory of that so dear, first, fond friend,
     So lovely, yet I can't recall her name.
          And others, too, like gossamer it seems:
     From time to time I wonder what became
Of them. In my dream's eye I seem to lend
Each face a beauty, youthful, without end —
         But do they ever see me in their dreams?

An assignment required a poem written in the rhyming pattern of Keats "Ode to Autumn". I recalled Panamanian poet Generoso Emiliani Villamil's reflective "Otõnal" (Autumnal) sonnets and one in particular 'Del Ayer que se'. After rereading the poems I chose as subject the feelings and reflections of a person (me) in the autumn of life.

When I admit to not speaking a word of Spanish my interest in Villamil's sonnets must seem strange. I tried to have the sonnets translated but no luck. In desperation, I translated word for word and endeavoured to juggle meanings as I thought they might be intended. I still don't have an absolute meaning for every word and so can't possibly have everything in context. Villamil's poem is found below and with it, despite my embarrassment, my latest translation.

I realised that Villamil and myself (and everyone else) have one thing in common, that is, the passing of the hours of their lives. Because of this one common factor I tried my darndest to duplicate Villamil's first thought to honour him. I carefully used the word "our" lives in line one. Other than that, my poem, just like my life, is nothing like Villamil's nor anyone else's though we may have similar feelings. I immediately switched from 'our lives' to 'my life' as I had no further interest in Villamil when I wrote about my life.

Another recollection was a 40's popular ballad, "My Old Flame" and its memorable lyrics, "My old flame, I can't even think of her name but it's funny now and then how my thoughts go flashing back again to my old flame."
'Del Ayer que se fue'
Van las horas menguando nuestras vida
y con ella también los sentimientos,
alegrías, nostálgicos momentos
de un pasado que colma la medida.

De la novia primera tan querida
los años de pasión tan turbulentos,
los de penurias, tiempos duros, cruentos,
el desengaño y la primera herida.

Tardías las emociones van restando
a la loca ilusión, febril, sin dueño,
hasta el dolor que esconde la tristeza;
rostros de ayer, marchitos su belleza,
truncadas esperanzas, vanos sueños
que un todo fue y en nada van quedando.
'Of Yesterday it was'
The hours go decreasing our lives
and with them also the feelings,
joys, nostalgic moments
of a past that overwhelms the measure.

Of the first dear friend so wanted
the years of passion so turbulent,
of penury, hard bloody times,
disillusionment and the first wound.

Lately the emotions are reducing
to a crazed illusion, feverish, ownerless,
until comes the pain that hides the sadness;
faces of yesterday, their beauty wilted,
truncated hopes, vain dreams
that all went and nothing of them remains.
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