When the Bluebells Stir
(Rima XVI)

If when the bluebells stir
on your balcony
you believe the murmuring wind
is passing with a sigh,
know that among the leaves, hidden,
it is I who sighs.

If when a vague murmur echoes
confused behind your back
you believe a distant voice
has called you by your name,
know that in the shadows about you
it is I who calls.

If in the depth of the night
your heart is troubled, afraid,
on feeling on your lips
the touch of a burning breath,
know that, unseen at your side,
it is I who breathes.

 

Amid Obscure Shadows
(Rima XXVIII)

When amid obscure shadows
a lost voice murmurs
disturbing its sad calm ...
If in my soul's depths
I hear it sweetly sounding,

tell me, Is it the wind moans
in its convolutions or that
in passing your sighs speak of love?

When the red sun shines
in my window at morning
and my love evokes your shadow,
if I think I feel the press
of another mouth on mine,

tell me, Is it that blind I rave
or that your heart sends me
a kiss in a sigh?

If in the luminous day
and in the deep gloomy night;
if in all that surrounds
my soul that desires you,
I think I can feel and see you,

tell me, Do I feel and think in a dream
or is it that in a sigh
you give me your breath to drink?

 

 

Her Hand Between My Hands
(Rima XL)

Her hand between my hands,
her eyes fixed on mine
her loving head reclined
upon my shoulder.
God knows how many times
lazily we have strolled
beneath the lofty elms
that lend mystery
to her house
and shade its portico.
And yesterday ... but a year ...
passed away like a gust ...
With what exquisite grace,
such admirable aplomb,
she remarked to me
when a meddlesome friend
was introducing us:
'I think we met somewhere.'
Ah, fools, fools!
The salon's cultured gossips
prancing there
in search of lovers'
entanglements!
What a story you have missed!
What a tasty food to much
sotto voce in a group
behind a feathered
fan of gold!
..................
Discreet and chaste moon,
tall dense-topped elms,
walls surrounding her house,
thresholds of her porch,
be silent, silent, lest
the secret slip from you.
I for my own part
have clean forgotten all.
And she ... she ... there is no mask
comparable to her face.

The Dark Swallows
(Rima LIII)

The dark swallows again
on your balcony will hang their nests,
and playing knock once more
against your window glass.

But those that stayed their flight
to ponder your beauty and my joy,
those that have learnt our names,
those, they will not return.

The dense honeysuckle again
will climb your garden walls
and later again their flowers
will open lovelier still.

But those laden with dew
whose drops we watched tremble
and fall like tears of the day,
those, they will not return.

The burning words of love
will sound again in your ears;
perhaps your heart will awake
and stir from its deep sleep.

But mute, absorbed, kneeling,
as one adores God at his altar,
as I have given my love ...
                 believe me,
no one will love you so.

How Beautiful
(Rima LXVII)

How beautiful to see the day
rise crowned with fire,
and watch its kiss of light
dazzle the waves and burn the air!

How beautiful on a blue evening
after sad autumnal rain,
to fill one's lungs
with the scent of wet flowers!

How beautiful when noiselessly
the white snow falls in flakes,
to see stirring
red tongues of restless flames!

How beautiful to sleep well
when tired ... and snore like a sexton ...
and eat ... and grow fat ... and what bad luck
all this is not enough!

 

Life is a Dream
(Rima LXIII)

Life is a dream, but a fevered
dream that lasts an instant.
Waking from it, one sees
that all is vanity and smoke.
God grant it were
a long deep sleep,
a dream to last till death!
I would dream of my love and yours.

A Light
(Rima LXXI)

Do you not see something
shining and weeping
faraway amid the trees
of the intricate woods? It's a star.

Now nearer it appears
visible as if through tulle,
shining on the portico
of the hermitage. It's a light.

This fast race is run.
Disillusionment. The light
we have followed is neither
lamp nor star. It's a candle.

 

Introduction to the poet & his work

Spanish texts of the 'Rimas' at palabravirtual

Top