Collected Poems
Poets & Poems
Santa Teresa de Ávila
(1518-1582)
Vivo sin vivir en mí (I Live Without Living In Me)
(c. 1572-1577)
Vivo sin vivir en mí
Versión original (en español)
Vivo sin vivir en mí,
y tan alta vida espero,
que muero porque no muero.
Vivo ya fuera de mí,
después que muero de amor;
porque vivo en el Señor,
que me quiso para sí:
cuando el corazón le di
puso en él este letrero,
que muero porque no muero.
Esta divina prisión,
del amor en que yo vivo,
ha hecho a Dios mi cautivo,
y libre mi corazón;
y causa en mí tal pasión
ver a Dios mi prisionero,
que muero porque no muero.
¡Ay, qué larga es esta vida!
¡Qué duros estos destierros,
esta cárcel, estos hierros
en que el alma está metida!
Solo esperar la salida
me causa dolor tan fiero,
que muero porque no muero.
¡Ay, qué vida tan amarga
do no se goza el Señor!
Porque si es dulce el amor,
no lo es la esperanza larga:
quíteme Dios esta carga,
más pesada que el acero,
que muero porque no muero.
Solo con la confianza
vivo de que he de morir,
porque muriendo el vivir
me asegura mi esperanza;
muerte do el vivir se alcanza,
no te tardes, que te espero,
que muero porque no muero.
Mira que el amor es fuerte;
vida, no me seas molesta,
mira que solo me resta,
para ganarte perderte.
Venga ya la dulce muerte,
el morir venga ligero
que muero porque no muero.
Aquella vida de arriba,
que es la vida verdadera,
hasta que esta vida muera,
no se goza estando viva:
muerte, no me seas esquiva;
viva muriendo primero,
que muero porque no muero.
Vida, ¿qué puedo yo darle
a mi Dios que vive en mí,
si no es el perderte a ti,
para merecer ganarle?
Quiero muriendo alcanzarle,
pues tanto a mi Amado quiero,
que muero porque no muero.
I Live Without Living in Me
Original English Translation (by Ava Linda Feliz-Sutter)
I live without living in me,
and so ecstatic is the life I await,
that I die because I do not die.
I live already outside of myself,
after which I will die of love;
for I live in Him,
for He wanted me for Himself:
when I gave Him my heart,
into it He placed this sign,
that I die because I do not die.
This divine prison,
of the love in which I live,
has made my God my captive,
and set my heart free;
and aroused in me such passion
to see God as my prisoner,
that I die because I do not die.
Oh, how long is this life!
How harsh are these exiles,
this prison, these iron chains,
into which my soul is cast!
Merely awaiting release
causes me such fierce pain,
that I die because I do not die.
Oh, how bitter is this life
where I cannot taste Him!
For though love is sweet,
to wait so long is not:
God, take this burden from me,
heavier than steel,
for I die because I do not die.
I live only with the faith
that I shall die,
for in dying is the life
that secures my hope for me;
death, where life shall be reached,
don’t be late, it is you I await,
for I die because I do not die.
See how strong this love is;
life, do not bother me,
you see, all I must do
to win you is to lose you.
Come now, oh sweet death,
let dying come swift,
for I die because I do not die.
That life from up above,
that which is the true life,
until this life dies,
cannot fully taste being alive:
death, do not elude me;
let me live by dying first,
for I die because I do not die.
Life, what can I give
to my God who lives in me,
for if I do not lose you—
how will I deserve to win Him?
I wish to die to reach Him,
for I desire my Beloved so,
that I die because I do not die.
Meister Eckhart
(1260-1328)
When I Was The Forest
(c. 13th Century)
When I was the stream, when I was the
forest, when I was still the field
when I was every hoof, foot,
fin and wing, when I
was the sky itself,
no one ever asked me did I have a purpose, no one ever
wondered was there anything I might need,
for there was nothing
I could not love.
It was when I left all we once were that
the agony began, the fear and questions came,
and I wept, I wept. And tears
I had never known before.
So I returned to the river, I returned to
the mountains. I asked for their hand in marriage again,
I begged—I begged to wed every object and creature,
and when they accepted,
God was ever present in my arms.
And He did not say,
“Where have you
been?”
For then I knew my soul—every soul—
has always held
Him.
Ava Linda Feliz-Sutter 