"The Rimas" by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (Full text in English)

XXI-XXX

Whate'er 1 hope for most My faith, my spirit's goal.

Of earth and heaven.

XXVI

In spítfi of selfish interest

Let it be frankly here confessed

That I with thee

Must quite agree

That odes are only good, when seen

Endorsed on bank-notes crisp and green. -

Some dolts will not be wanting, who

Will cross themselves with much ado

And vent their rank acerbity

Upon our nineteenth century.

Declaring modern women ail

Prosaic and material. "

Such sentiments but serve to make

Four frozen poets run and quake,

When they essay in winter's ire

To wrap themselves within their lyre.

These are the dogs who bay their tune

To spite the poor, defenceless moon.

For you know well

And I can tell.

That there are very few of us

Who boast of real genius

While any booby may with gold

A world of poesy unfold.

XXVII

I tremble to look at thee, while awake; But when asleep, a glance I dare to take; Therefore I watch, while in enthrallment deep O soul of my soul, thou art held by sleep.

Awakened, thou dost laugh, and thus, thy lips Appear like restless, scarlet lightning tips Dazzling and fitful in their zig-zag glow. Coiled like a serpent on a sky of snow.

Asleep, the angle of thy mouth beguiles With tender folds of reminiscent smiles. Mild as the radiance, which the dying sun Leaves in its wake, whene'er his course is run . . . . Sleep thou!

Awakened, thou dost gaze and then thy eyes With humid lire are glistening, such as lies Upon the blue waves' crest, in mobile mounds And which the sparkling sun by contact wounds. "

Asleep, across thy eye-lids thou dost shed A tranquil brightness, constant, limited. Just as a lamp's transparencies invite Transmission of a tempered ray of light. . . . Sleep thou!

Awakened, thou dost speak and speaking seem Thy words vibrating a torrential stream Or rain of pearls precipitately rolled With clank and clatter in a cup of gold.

Asleep, I listen to thy measured flow Of respiration, regular and low; And hear a poem in its murmurs bland. Which my enamored soul can understand.... Sleep thou!

I place my hand above my heart, to still Its restless beating, so that nothing will Thy welcome and paciüc slumbers blight, And mar the solemn stillness of the night.

And now the shutters of thy balcony I 'II gently close, so that no curious ray Of morning's dawning may seek entrance here And with annoying brightness interfere. . . , Sleep thou I

XXVIII

When a voice in dusky shadows hidden Murmurs and disturbs its mournful calm,

If I hear its sweet resonate 

In my soul's recesses like a psalm;

Tell me; " Is it but the wind lamenting In its flurries circumventing.

Or may I interpret, that thy sigh Speaks to me of love in passing by?

When the red sun on my window glistens

In the morn and love invokes thy shade. If I feel with sensitive persistence

How another mouth on mine is laid; Tell me, is it but a frantic madness

Blindly generated by my sadness. Or else did thy heart, a true ally

Waft to me a kiss within a sigh ?

If, the brilliant day with night confounding,

I, who love thee, seem so near to thee. If, in every object me surrounding

Proves thy presence its ubiquity; Tell me: " Is my whole existence seeming,

Do I touch and breathe while I am dreaming. Or, in sighs transmitted, shall 1 think

Thou hast given me thy breath to drink ?

XXIX

Upon her lap she heó an open book

While furtively her black curls touched my cheek; For all its letters not a passing look.

In sultry silence no attempt to speak. " How long we sat? " I did not know it then;

I only know, that nothing but our breath Was audible, escaping just as when

Oppressed, it flies the shrivelled lips of death. " I only know, that we both turned at once.

Instinctively attracted, that our eyes Sought, found each other like two flaming suns

And that a kiss was heard in Paradise.

It was Dante's "Hell," which we had both perused ; When we resumed, I trembling said and low: "Canst thou perceive intelligibly how

"A poem in one verse may be infused?" And, blushing, she replied: "I see it now,"

XXX

A melting tear was rising in her eye And to my lips argued an apology, Deep, contrite, self-accusing; " but our pride Banished the guardian angel from our side; It dried her tear with its devouring blaze And hushed was my conciliatory phrase.

She follows her path; I pursue my own,

Yet oft, when thinking of our love, alone,

Marvel, why I was silent on that day;

While she, perhaps, with saddened heart may say:

"Why did I not relent? " Alas, I reap

"My folly's harvest. Why did I not weep?"