When I heard Gary Zukov reciting by heart my man Robert Bly's version of this classic poem to Oprah, I decided to offer my own version.
I am not I.
I am
What’s me without me knowing it
At my side at times I see
And sometimes forget.
Who stays, serene, when I speak,
Who when I hate, sweetly forgives,
Who walks where I am not,
Who when I pass away, still stands.
[Spanish original]:
Yo no soy yo.
Soy este
que va a mi lado sin yo verlo,
que, a veces, voy a ver,
y que, a veces olvido.
El que calla, sereno, cuando hablo,
el que perdona, dulce, cuando odio,
el que pasea por donde no estoy,
el que quedará en pie cuando yo muera.
[Bly's translation]:
I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
the one who remains silent while I talk,
the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,
the one who takes a walk when I am indoors,
the one who will remain standing when I die.
