The village blacksmith Gl herrero de la aldea Under a spreading chestnut tree the village smithy stands: the smith, a mighty man is he with large and sinewy hands: and the muscles of his brawny arms are strong as iron bands.
II His hair is crisp, and black, and long.
His face is like the tan: his brow is wet with honest sweat, he earns whate er he can, and looks the whole world in the face, for he owes not any man.
III Week in, week out, from morn till night, you can hear his bellows blow: you can hear him swing his heavy sledge, with measured beat and slow, like a sexton ringing the village bel, when the evening sun is low.
DE LONGFELLOW Para Páginas Ilustradar Bajo un castaño frondoso está la fragua del pueblo, Potentes son y nervudas las manazas del herrero, y sus atezados brazos ostentan, en el esfuerzo, músculos que se entrecruzan cual fuertes bandas de acero.
IT Pelo negro en largos rizos, tez por el fuego curtida: en sus sienes el sudor del trabajo honrado brilla; gana mucho, nadie debe: con la conciencia tranquila el herrero de la aldea cara a cara todos mira.
III semana tras semana desde el alba hasta la noche, el resiplar de los fuelles todas horas se oye; y del pesado martillo el ritinico y lento golpe remeda de las campanas los melancólicos dobles.
IV Al pasar los escolares en la ancha puerta se apiñan para escuchar con deleite la ruidosa sinfonía y seguir con la mirada las rojas, fúlgidas chispas que vuelan del hierro hecho ascua, como granza de la trilla. El domingo va la iglesia el herrero con sus nins, y asiste devotamente los sagrados oficios, mientras su alma sonrie al escuchar de improviso su hija, que en el coro entona piadosos himnos.
IV And children coming home from school look in at the open door; they love to see the flaming forge, and hear the bellows roar, and catch the burning sparks that fly like chaff from a threshing floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, and sits among his boys; he hears the parson pray and preach, he hears his daught s voice singing in the village choir, and it makes his heart rejoice.
VI It sounds to him like her wife voice, singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more, how in the grave she lies: and with his hard, rough hand he wipes a tear out of his eyes.
Yoyéndola le par ce que su esposa desde el cielo est cantando, y entonces al volar el pensamiento la dulce compañera que duerme en el cementerio, una lágrima furtiva enjugan sus toscos dedos.
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