Written by
Delmira Agustini |
SpanishEl ancla de oro canta…la vela azul asciendeComo el ala de un sueño abierta al nuevo día. Partamos, musa mía!Ante lo prora alegre un bello mar se extiende.En el oriente claro como un cristal, esplendeEl fanal sonrosado de Aurora. FantasíaEstrena un raro traje lleno de pedreríapara vagar brillante por las olas. Ya tiendeLa vela azul a Eolo su oriflama de raso…El momento supremo!…Yo me estremezco; acasoSueño lo que me aguarda en los mundos no vistos!…Acaso un fresco ramo de laureles fragantes,El toison reluciente, el cetro de diamantes,El naufragio o la eterna corona de los Cristos?… EnglishThe golden anchor beckons, the blue sail risesLike the wing of a dream unfolding to a new day. Let us depart, my muse!Beyond an anxious prow, the sea stretches itself out.In the crystal clear East, Aurora'sBlushed beacon shines. FantasyIs donning a rare garment of gemsTo wander brilliantly over the waves. The blue sailUnfolds its private oriflamme to Aeolus…The supreme moment!…I tremble: do I know–Oh God!–what awaits me in unseen worlds?Perhaps a freshly picked bouquet of fragrant laurels,The golden fleece, a diamond scepter,A shipwreck, or the eternal crown of the Anointed Ones?…
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Written by
Francesco Petrarch |
SONNET LVIII. O giorno, o ora, o ultimo momento. HE MOURNS HIS WANT OF PERCEPTION AT THAT MEETING. O Day, O hour, O moment sweetest, last,O stars conspired to make me poor indeed!O look too true, in which I seem'd to read.At parting, that my happiness was past;Now my full loss I know, I feel at last:Then I believed (ah! weak and idle creed!)'Twas but a part alone I lost; instead,Was there a hope that flew not with the blast?[Pg 286]For, even then, it was in heaven ordain'dThat the sweet light of all my life should die:'Twas written in her sadly-pensive eye!But mine unconscious of the truth remain'd;Or, what it would not see, to see refrain'd,That I might sink in sudden misery! Morehead. Dark hour, last moment of that fatal day!Stars which to beggar me of bliss combined!O faithful glance, too well which seem'dst to sayFarewell to me, farewell to peace of mind!Awaken'd now, my losses I survey:Alas! I fondly thought—thoughts weak and blind!—That absence would take part, not all, away;How many hopes it scatter'd to the wind.Heaven had already doom'd it otherwise,To quench for ever my life's genial light,And in her sad sweet face 'twas written so.Surely a veil was placed around mine eyes,That blinded me to all before my sight,And sank at once my life in deepest woe. Macgregor.
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