Hi everyone! Today I wanted to give this topic a try.

I'm aware of everything implied in the translation process and how hard it is to translate poetry. For this, you have to make choices where you can have losses but also you try to compensate for this through strengthening any other property of the poem. You have to convey not only the basic meaning but the feelings and that is what I find fascinating. And now... translating a poem into your target language? that's way too much harder and that's why normally you translate into your mother tongue and not the other way around (unless you have a really high proficiency and knowledge, I think).

How come that I, a non-expert, tried to do this? Once I published a poem in my IG story, which I found ad hoc. Finding myself in fall (not only physically but also emotionally), I could strongly relate to "Horas grises" by Amado Nervo, whose topic is about trying to hide sadness. Some minutes after, a friend of mine who doesn't speak Spanish asked me for it's meaning and I really found myself in trouble. I looked up for a translation and, whether it was because the translation didn't exist, it wasn't available for free or it was only in poetry compilations I had to pay for, I found nothing.

My next thought was "okay, I'll just tell him what it says and later I can explain it to him", and that's how I embarked on this literary adventure.

I started drafting and I was surprised that it wasn't that bad. I tried to improve it a little bit more, make it sound better, and finally sent it to him. I succeeded! It is important to mention that none of us are English native speakers and that my only purpose was to let him know what it said so I didn't worry too much about rhyme and all that stuff. I think that's why it worked. Now I would like to improve it and want to know how you guys find it despite the mistakes you may find (I'm sure there will be many of them).

Here I leave my attempt:

Gray Hours - Amado Nervo

Autumn comes with fog and rain,

Withered leaves blown by the wind,

But to us stick those old issues

That we carry within.

In vain we want to cover ourselves with flowers,

Drown the sorrow, show ourselves content,

But the glories of the world cannot carry off

The snow from inside (us).

Banal seems the joyful laughter

In jocund mouths inviting to kiss,

Covering everything with death's veil

The snow from inside (us).

Awaited joy vanished along with dreams

That yesterday inspired us to write sonnets,

And books can not always carry off

The snow from inside (us).

And now we wait for the autumn to pass,

That winter comes with all its ice;

The cold outside, kinder will be

Than the cold within.