Nocturne III
One night one night all full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings; one night in which fantastic fireflies burnt in the humid nuptial shadows, slowly by my side, pressed altogether close, silent and pale, as if a presentiment of infinite bitternesses agitated you unto the most hidden fibers of your being,along the flowering path which crosses the plain you walked; and the full moonin the infinite and profound blue heavens scattered its white light; and your shadow, fine and languid, and my shadow projected by the rays of the moon, upon the sorrowful sands of the path, joined together; and they became one, and they became one, and they became only one long shadow, and they became only one long shadow, and they became only one long shadow…. Tonight alone; my soulfull of the infinite bitternesses and agonies of your death, separated from you by time, by the tomb and by distance, by the infinite blackness where our voice cannot reach, silent and alone along the path I walked…And the barking of dogs at the moon could be heard, at the pale moon, and the chirping of the frogs… I felt cold.
It was the coldness that in your alcoveyour cheeks and your temples and your adoréd hands possessed within the snowy whiteness of the mortuary sheets.
It was the coldness of the sepulcher, it was the ice of death, it was the coldness of oblivion. And my shadow,projected by the rays of the moon, walked alone, walked alone,walked alone along the solitary plain; and your shadow, svelte and agile, fine and languid, as in that warm night of springtime death, as in that night full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings, approached and walked with mine, approached and walked with mine, approached and walked with mine… Oh, the shadows intertwined!
Oh, the corporeal shadows united with the shadows of the souls!
Oh, the seeking shadows in those nights of sorrows and of tears!
Other author posts
Dusk
The lamp that stands beside the Is not yet lighted to warm the Of the blueish, opaque light Through the curtains of late afternoon
The Woodsmen Of San Juan
Until sunset From the dawn See the woodsmen of San Juan, They want bread before it’s gone
Chrysalises
The little girl, though very ill, Went out one To wander, with faltering footsteps, The nearby hill She brought back mountain flowers In which she hidA chrysalis and, unknowing, set it Close beside her bed A few days later, at the m...
Suspiro Yearning
Si en tus recuerdos ves algún díaentre la niebla de lo pasadosurgir la triste memoria míamedio borrada ya por los años,piensa que fuiste siempre mi anheloy si el recuerdo de amor tan santomueve tu pecho; nubla tu cielo,llena de lágrimas tus ojos g...