Garcilaso de la Vega
(1501-1536)
Soneto XXXVII
A la entrada de un valle, en un desierto,
do nadie atravesaba, ni se vía,
vi que con extrañeza un can hacía
extremos de dolor con desconcierto;
agora suelta el llanto al cielo abierto,
ora va rastreando por la vía;
camina, vuelve, para, y todavía
quedaba desmayado como muerto.
Y fue que se apartó de su presencia
su amo, y no le hallaba; y esto siente;
mirad hasta do llega el mal de ausencia.
Movióme a compasión ver su accidente;
díjele, lastimado: «Ten paciencia,
que yo alcanzo razón, y estoy ausente».
Sonnet XXXVII
At the entry of a valley, in a desert,
which nobody was crossing, nor coming from,
I saw that with surprise a dog was showing
extremes of sorrow with uncertainty;
now it releases its cries to the open sky,
now it goes rushing towards the path;
it walks, returns, stops, and still
it remained as dismayed as a dead person.
And the fact was that it was parted from the presence
Of its owner, and it was not finding him; and it feels it;
look to what extent reaches the evil of absence.
It moved me to compassion to see his misfortune;
I said to him, the crying one: "Have patience,
since I have reason, and yet I too am absent."
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