It's a strange thing to be a poet

Es una cosa extraña ser poeta,
es una cosa extraña sentir la propia vida
llena de muchedumbres,
escuchar en el propio canto todos los cantos
y cotidianamente
morir un poco en todo lo que muere.

Es una cosa extraña ser poeta;
es sorprender al niño en los ojos del viejo,
es oír los clamores del bosque en la semilla,
adivinar que hay una primavera dormida
bajo cada nevada,
partir el pan y ver los segadores.

Es una cosa extraña: ser poeta
es convertirse en tierra para entender la lluvia,
es convertirse en hoja para saber de otoños,
es convertirse en muerto para aprender la ausencia.

Miguel d'Ors
photo by Louis Treserras

It's a strange thing to be a poet,
it's a strange thing to feel one's life
full of crowds,
listen to all the songs in the song
and every day
die a little in everything that dies.

It is a strange thing to be a poet;
is to surprise the child in the eyes of the old man,
is to hear the cries of the forest in the seed,                       
guess that there is a spring asleep
under each snowfall,
split the bread and see the reapers.

It's a strange thing: to be a poet
is to become land to understand the rain,
is becoming a leaf to know about autumns,
is to become dead to learn absence.

Miguel d'Ors