Help me to translate this.

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This is Soneto Enamorado from Francisco Luis Bernárdez:

Soneto enamorado

Dulce como el arroyo soñoliento,
mansa como la lluvia distraída,
pura como la rosa florecida
y próxima y lejana como el viento.

Esta mujer que siente lo que yo siento.
y está sangrando por mi propia herida
tiene la forma justa de mi vida
y la medida de mi pensamiento.

Cuando me quejo, es ella mi querella,
y cuando callo, mi silencio es ella,
y cuando canto, es ella mi canción.

Cuando confío, es ella la confianza,
y cuando espero, es ella la esperanza,
y cuando vivo, es ella el corazón.

I can make a rough translation to english but I need it to be more "poetic like", and only one more fluent in the language could help me with this.

Sweet as a sleepy stream,
gentle as a distracted rain
pure as a rose blooming
and near and distant like the wind.

This woman who feels what I feel
and is bleeding from my own wound
has the right form of my life
and the extent of my thought.

When I scream, she is my voice,
When I'm quiet, my silence is her
and when I sing, she is my song.

When I trust, she is my confidence,
when I hope, she is Hope, (no idea how to translate this)
and when I live, she is my heart. (I love this last line)
 
I charge 40 cents (mexican cents) a word for translations, I'd have to, like, double my rate for a poem.

Oh what the hell.

You made a pretty decent job there. In the line you had no idea how to translate, how about:

When I have faith, she is hope.

I'm not certain where you got the "scream/voice" line, though...

A more literal translation would be "When I bemoan, she is my complaint"... or somesuch. We need a better word than bemoan... differ? denounce?
 
I used "scream" because "complaint" sounds like.. a complaint. It should means something more like pain.
 
I think it's pretty good (and agree to all the suggestions from calleja, even if I can't find better alternatives).
But when it says "Esta mujer que siente lo que siente", is it supposed to say "que siente lo que siento"? Because that's what you translated, and it seems like the logical thing considering how the rest of the poem goes, but I don't really know the original one.
 
Ooo, a challenge. I'm willing to give it a shot.

Mellow as a tranquil brook,
gentle as a scattered shower,
flawless as a fresh-bloomed flower
and here and gone like a chinook.

This woman who shares with me my feelings
and bleeds my wounds made with my knife
she has the measure of my life
my thoughts, my mind, and all their reelings.

When I argue, she is my argument,
and when I hush, she, too, grows silent,
and when I sing, she is my art.

When I commit, she is my deed,
and when I hope, she is my need,
and when I live, she is my heart.


Had to mess with it a little to keep the rhyme scheme, but I'm pretty satisfied with it.

--Patrick
 
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