The dark swallows will return on your balcony to hang
their nests, and again with wing
crystals playing call.
But those who refrained
flight your beauty and my
happiness, those who learned our
names ... Those ... never again!.
They will return the
dense honeysuckle your garden walls to
climb, and again in the evening
even more beautiful its flowers open.
But those, curds Dew whose drops watched
tremble and fall like tears of
the day ...
Those ... will not return!
They return the love to your ears fiery sounding words; your heart from its slumber maybe wake.
But silent, absorbed and knees as God is worshiped at its altar, as I have loved you ...;kid yourself, Well ... you will not want to!
Because they are girl your eyes green as the sea, you complain; the greens are the nymphs, Minerva took the green, and green are the pupils houris of the Prophet.
Green is gala and Ornaments forest in the spring; among its seven colors Iris bright displaying it emeralds are green; green color than expected and ocean waves and the laurel of poets.
It's your cheek early Pink covered glitters, carmine in petals looks at through the beads.
Yet I know you complain
because your eyes think that disfigure, believe it not.
They seem his pupils wet, green and restless almond leaves early that the breath of the air tremble.
It's your mouth Ruby purple open Granada in the summer invites to quench thirst with it,
Yet I know you complain because your eyes think that disfigure, believe it not.
They seem, if angry your twinkling eyes, ocean waves breaking rocks in the Cantabrian.
It's your forehead crown curly wide gold braid, snowy summit in the day its last light reflects.
Yet I know you complain because your eyes disfigure you think: believe it not.
Between the flanges blonde with temples resemble emerald and gold brooches holding a white ermine.
Because they are girl your eyes green as the sea you complain; maybe if black or blue is tornasen, mean it.
I know a strange giant anthem Advertising on the night of the soul an aurora, and these pages are the hymn cadences that air expands in the shadows.
I wanted to write, man taming unruly, mean language words that were at once sighs and laughter, colors and notes.
But it is vain to fight, no figure able to lock him up;and just, oh, beautiful!, if, having my hands yours, could, ear, you cantártelo alone.
Your eyes are blue, and when you laugh, I clearly remember her soft the shimmering glow of the morning
which is reflected in the sea.
Your eyes are blue, and when you cry, it tears transparent I will include dew drops on a violet.
Your eyes are blue, and if your background as a point of light radiates an idea, I think in the evening sky a lost star.
Peered into his eyes a tear and my lip a sentence of forgiveness; spoke the pride and wiped her tears, and the phrase on my lips expired.
I'm going on a road;she, on the other; but, thinking of our love, I still say: - Why was silent that day? They will say: - Why did not I cry?
Kiss the aura moaning softly mild waves playing ruffles; the sun kisses the cloud in the West purple and gold and the nuances; flame burning round the trunk for kissing another flame slides; and to the willow, bending to their weight, the river kissing him a kiss back.
They closed their eyes that was still open, they covered his face with a white cloth, and a sobbing, other in silence, Sad alcove all departed.
The light in a glass burned to the ground, threw the wall the shadow of the bed; and from that shadow could be seen at intervals drawn rigid body shape.
Awoke the day and, at the first dawn, with a thousand noises wake up people. Before that contrast of life and mystery, of light and darkness, I thought a moment:
- My God, how lonely are the dead!
From the house, on shoulders, brought it out to the temple and a chapel let the coffin.
There they surrounded pale remains yellow candles and black cloths.
By giving of Souls the last touch, ended an old their last prayers, crossed the wide nave, doors groaned, and holy place desert abode.
Heard a clock compasado the pendulum, and some candles the sizzle. So fearful and sad, so dark and stiff everything was I thought a moment:
My God, how lonely are the dead!
High bell iron tongue I gave flipping his plaintive goodbye. The mourning clothes, friends and relatives crossed in row forming courtship.
The last asylum dark, narrow, opened the ax niche to an end. There's chatter, tapiáronle then and a greeting took leave bereavement.
Piquette shoulder the undertaker, singing through clenched teeth, was lost in the distance. The night is coming, the sun was set; lost in the shadows I thought a moment:
My God, how lonely are the dead!
In the long nights the icy, when timber wind rustling ago Lashes and Glasses the heavy downpour, the poor girl sometimes I remember.
There falls the
a are eternal; battle there the breath of the north wind. Wet wall lying in the gap,
Cold case freeze their bones ...!
Are you returning dust to dust? Flies soul to heaven? Everything is spiritless rot and slime? I do not know;but something I can not explain, repugnant although it is hard to do so, so sad to leave, alone as the dead.
How many times, at the foot of the mossy walls as keep I heard that mediate shearing night call to matins!
How often traced my silhouette the silvery moon, next to the cypress, which your garden looks over the walls!
When shadows enveloped the church, puff its warhead, Shake many times over glasses I saw the glow of the lamp!
Although the wind in the dark corners the whistle tower between the voices of the choir perceived vibrant and clear voice.
On winter nights, if a fearful the empty square dared to cross, to divisarme step quickened.
And did not miss an old woman on the lathe say in the morning, that certain sacristan dead in sin I was perhaps the soul.
A dark corner knew atrium and the cover; my feet nettles that grow there maybe stored fingerprints.
Owls, who were terrified me with eyes of flame, came to me with the time like a good comrade.
Beside me fearless reptiles moved to crawl; until the mute granite saints I think that greeted me.
Of living in the dark corner, its owner perhaps forgotten, Silent and dust cover could be seen the harp.
Note slept much on its strings as the bird sleeps in the branches, awaiting the hand of snow who knows pluck!
Ay!I thought;How many times the genius and sleeping in the depths of the soul, and a voice, like Lazarus, wait you say, "Get up and walk."
Sighs are air and go into the air. Tears are water and go to sea. Tell me woman when love is forgotten, Do you know where it goes?
Do not say that, exhausted his treasure, issues missing, the lira fell silent; may not be poets;but always will be poetry.
While waves of light kiss ignites the heart, while the sun torn clouds of fire and gold, while the air in its lap perfumes and harmonies, while there is spring in the world, Will be poetry!
While science does not discover sources of life, and in the sea or in the sky there is a gulf calculation that resist, while always advancing humanity not know where it walks, while there is a mystery to man, Will be poetry!
While we feel that the soul rejoices, without the lips smiling; while cry without tears go to cloud the eyes; while the heart and head continue struggling, while there is hope and memories, Will be poetry!
While there are eyes reflecting eyes looking at them, while sighing respond lip the lips that sigh, while in a kiss can feel two confused souls, while there is a beautiful woman, Will be poetry!
Giant waves that you break bellowing in remote and deserted beaches wrapped between the sheets of foam, Away with you!
Gusts hurricane snatch High forest decayed leaves, entrained in the vortex blind, Away with you!
Cloud lightning storm breaks Ornais fire and you bloody fringes, caught between the dark fog, Away with you!.
Take me, for pity's sake, where vertigo the reason I start with memory. For pity's sake!I'm afraid to stay alone with my pain!.Becquer I
love to hate their own