Triton

 En la isla en que detiene su esquife el argonauta

del inmortal Ensueño, donde la eterna pauta

de las eternas liras se escucha: -- Isla de Oro

en que el tritón erige su caracol sonoro

y la sirena blanca va a ver el sol --, un día

se oye un tropel vibrante de fuerza y de harmonia.

Son los Centauros . . .

On the island where docks the skiff of the argonaut,

he of the immortal illusion, where the eternal guiding

of the eternal lyres is heard, -- the Isle of Gold,

on which the Triton raises his sonorous sea-shell,

and the white siren comes out to see the sun --, one day

is heard a thundering troop of force and of harmony.

It is the centaurs . . .

           QUIRON

Callada las bocinas a los tritones gratas,

calladas las strenas de labios escarlatas,

los carrillos de Eolo desinflados, digamos

junto al laurel ilustre de florecidos ramos

la gloria inmarcesible de las Musas hermosas

y el triunfo del terrible misterio de las cosas. . . .

           CHIRON

Stilled the pleasant horns of the tritons,

stilled the strains of the scarlet lips,

the cheeks of Aeolus deflated, let us speak

as one of the illustrious laurel of flowering branches,

the unfading glory of the beautiful Muses

and the triumph of the terrible mystery of things . . .

(from "Coloquio de los centauros" by Rubén Dario, Nicaraguan poet, 1867 - 1916)

[My text had a misprint: juto for junto. I toyed with the possible meaning "Jute" (Germanic colonist of Kent), and the possible meaning "Xuthus" (mythological brother of a different Aeolus), before finally doing the sensible thing and comparing online texts.]

Here's the original 1896 publication, with illustrations!

https://es.wikisource.org/wiki/P%C3%A1gina:Prosas_profanas_(1896).djvu/93

*

In the days which are now called the good days, although in reality they were very bad ones for a good many people, the greatest discovery of a great century was made, namely, that one could live more cheaply and better on other people's money than on the results of one's own efforts. Many, a great many, people had taken advantage of the discovery, and as no patent law protected it, it was not surprising that Levi should be anxious to profit by it, too, more particularly as he had no money himself and no inclination to work for a family which was not his own. He, therefore, put on his best suit one day and called on his uncle Smith.

"Oh, indeed! You have an idea," said Smith, "Let's hear it! It's a good thing to have ideas!"

"I have been thinking of floating a joint stock company."

"Very good. Aaron will be treasurer, Simon secretary, Isaac cashier, and the other boys book-keepers; it's a good idea! Go on! What sort of a company is it going to be?"

"I'm thinking of a marine insurance society."

"Indeed! So far so good; everybody has to insure his property when he goes on a voyage. But your idea?"

"This is my idea."

"I don't think much of it. We have the big society 'Neptune.' It's a good society. Yours would have to be better if you intend to compete with it. What would be the novelty in your society?"

"Oh! I understand! I should reduce the premiums and all the patrons of the 'Neptune' would come to me."

"That's better! Very well, then, the prospectus which I would print would begin in this way: 'As the crying need of reducing the marine insurance premiums has long been felt, and it is only owing to the want of competition that it has not yet been done, we, the undersigned, beg to invite the public to take up shares in the new society.... What name?"

"Triton."

"Triton? What sort of a chap was he?"

"He was a sea-god."

"All right, Triton. It will make a good poster! You can order it from Ranch in Berlin, and we will reproduce it in my almanac 'Our Country.' Now for the undersigned. First, of course, my name. We must have big, well-sounding names. Give me the official almanac."

Smith turned over the leaves for some time.

"A marine insurance company must have a naval officer of high rank. Let me see! An admiral."

(From August Strindberg (1849 - 1912),  The Red Room, Chapter XII, translation by Ellie Schleussner.)

It's a great chapter, a crash course in setting up a fraudulent company (Dickens readers will recall the Anglo-Bengalee), expressed with the snappy satirical joyousness that The Red Room abounds in. But I'm afraid Strindberg's choice of first names for Levi and his relatives was quite intentional. He was anti-Semitic, most of the time. (Eric Bentley characterizes Strindberg's anti-Semitism as "opportunistic and petty" -- more like Chopin's than Wagner's; but that's not mollifying.)