BLACKWELL FAMILY SPANISH- AMERICAN POEMS : TRANSLATIONS ALICE STONE BLACKWELL SUBJECT FILE by Alice S. Blackwell My White House Hid in a vale of flowers and fragrances Kissed by the glowing sun from heaven above I have a house, a mansion of white doves, Which is a nest of dreams, a home of love. 'Tis there the gentle breezes are most mild And there the purest is the stars' light 'Tis there the birds breathe out their sweetest strains And stars set heaven's dark cloak aflame at night (?) The cooing of the loving dove Is blended with the breeze's gentle sigh The fountains flow with sweeter(2 more copies of this) White Manuel Gutierrez Najera (Mexico) What thing than the lily unstained is more white? More pure than the mystic wax taper so light? More chaste than the orange flower, tender and fair? Than the light mist more virginal - holier too Than the stone where the Eucharist stands ever new, In the Lord's House of Prayer? By the flight of white doves all the air now is cloven A white robe, from strands of the morning mist woven, [Senwraps?] in the distance the feudal round tower. The trembling acacia, most graceful of trees, Stands up in the orchard and waves in the breeze Her soft, snowy flower. See you not on the mountain the white of the snow? The white tower stands high o'er the village below; The gentle sheep gambol and play, passing by. Swans pure and unspotted now cover the lake, The straight lily sways as the breezes awake; The volcano's huge vase is uplifted on high. Let us enter the church: shines the eucharist there, And of snow seems to be the old pastor's white hair; In an alb of fine linen his frail form is clad. A hundred fair maidens there set robed in white; 2 They offer bouquets of spring flowers, fresh and bright, The blossoms of April pure, fragrant and glad. Let us go to the choir: to the novice's prayer Propitiously listens the Virgin so fair; The white marble Christ on the crucifix dies; And there without stain the wax tapers rise white; And of lace is the curtain so thin and so light, Which day-dawn already shines through from the skies. Come, let us go down to the field. Foaming white, The stream seems a tumult of feathers in flight, As its waters run, singing and leaping in glee. In its airy mantilla of mist cool and pale The mountain is wrapped; the swift bark's lateen sail Glides out and is lost to our sight on the sea. The lovely young woman now springs from her bed, On her goddess-like shoulders fresh water to shed, On her fair, polished arms and her beautiful neck. Now, singing and smiling, she girds on her gown; Bright tremulous drops from her hair shaken down, Her comb of Arabian ivory decks. O maple! O snows! O vast, wonderful whiteness Your chaste beauty everywhere sheds its pure brightness, O shy, timid vestal, to chastity vowed! 3 In the statue of beauty eternal are you: From your soft robe is purity born, ever new; You give angels wings, and give mortals a shroud. You cover the child to whom life is yet new, Crown the brows of the maiden whose promise is true, Clothe the page in rich raiment that shines like a star. How white are your mantles of ermine, O givens! The cradle how white, where the fond mother bows! How white, my beloved, how spotless you are! In proud dreams of love, I behold with delight The towers of a church rising white in my sight, And a home, his in lilies, that opens to me; And a bridal veil hung on your forehead so fair, Like a filmy cloud, floating down slow through the air, Till it rests on your shoulders a marvel to see! metre The Princess and the Star To Margarita Debacle From the Spanish of Ruben Dario. Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell. [ Ruben Dario of Nicaragua, who has just died, was thought by many to be the greatest of Spanish American poets. On his return from his recent visit to the United States, he was received with almost royal honors in the Spanish American countries through which he passed.] Margarita, the sea lies fair, And from the bowers The wind brings a subtle scent Of orange flowers. In my soul a lark is singing - Your voice, my dear! I am going to tell you a story. Sit down and hear! There was once a mighty monarch, With a palace of diamonds bright And elephants in a stable [???] 2 And a tent that was made of light; And a tower of malachite costly, And a mantle of gorgeous hue, And a graceful and sweet little princess, As pretty, my darling, as you. One evening the princess, gazing, Saw a star in the heavens afar. She was mischievous, surely, the princess - She wanted to gather that star. To adorn for her bosom a breast pin The wished it, the dear little girl, Along with a verse of a pact, A feather, a flower and a pearl. It seems dainty princesses, darling, Are much as you are today, For lilies they cut, and roses, And stars. They are made that way! So she went, the lovely princess, O'er the sea and under the sky, To cut the white star that she longed for From the vault of the heavens on high. 3 She went up by the moon, and farther, On that beautiful summer eve; But the bad thing was that she went away Without asking her father's leave. And when she came back from the Lord's fair park, In the heavens azure height, She was seen all wrapped in a glory soft, In a splendor sweet and bright. And the king said, "What were you doing child? I have looked for you everywhere. And what is that on your bosom That burns with a light so fair?" The princess told no falsehood She made him an answer true. "I went to gather my star," she said, "From the heavens vast and blue." Then the king cried, "Oh, what madness! What a fancy strand and wild! I told you no one must touch the sky. The Lord will be angry, child!" "I meant no harm," she answered; "I went, I don't know why, 4 Across the waves, in the blowing wind, And I cut the star from the sky." Said her father, "You must be punished. Go back to the sky once more, For what you stole from the shining heights To its place you must restore." The princess grew sad and mournful For her lovely flower of light; But then good Jesus appeared to them - His smile it was sweet and bright. "in my country's fields up yonder I gave her that flower," said he. "My flowers belong to the little girls Who think and who dream of me." The king donned glittering garments, And there by the shore he made Four hundred elephants tall and grave March past in a grand parade. And the princess is fair to look on, With her breast pin, the happy girl; For it shines with the star, with a poet's [??] With a feather, a flower and a pearl! 5 Margarita, the sea lies fair; The breezes clear Waft orange blossoms' fragrance - Your breath, my dear! Ere long you will be far distant, But keep, little maid, I pray, A Kindly thought of the friend who tried To tell you a tale one day! Butterflies. Whether white as flitting snowflakes, Whether dark, or blue, or crimson, They adorn the air in myriads, And amid the petals frolic. Lightly springing from the blossoms, Like the fleeing souls of roses, (two lines of writing struck through) They with winning grace are swaying, In the leaves, their verdant hammocks. By a gleam their life is kindled, And a drop at eve can quench it. They appear with first brightness; And before the dark they perish. Who knows where their hidden nests are - Where they find repose at nightfall? The coquettes, in constant, fickle, Have no home, no sleeping chamber. They are born, love, shine and perish. In the air they change in dying, 2 Pass away and leave no traces, Like the drops of some light shower. Some of them are changed to blossoms; Others, up to heaven summoned, With their million gleaming wing let's Join to form the glorious rainbow. Where is then thy nest, O rover? Where thy harem wee Sultana? Who, coquette, thy favored lover? Thus take wing, and pass, and perish, The chimeras, love and glory, Those bright pinions of the spirit, Whether white, or red, or azure. Who knows when and where we lost you. Dreams like butterflies that glittered? Ah, how swift your bright swarms nourish, In the soul when falls the shadow!3 My now [couldst?] thou not. O white one? Wast thou not the orange blossom Of my bride? Ah me! I made thee Of the white drape from the taper That I carried at the alter Of my parish church in boyhood! (over) (several lines struck through) "Now thy wedding night approaches!" She, the white one, she, the good one, Comes no more, nor yet the crimson, Which in red I dyed - a live kiss On some rosy lips pressed sharply; Nor the blue, that called me poet, Nor the gold, that promised glory. In my soul the might has fallen. All the butterflies have vanished. Light that yellow waxen taper; Now the others will come [througing?], Those with black wings, circling nearer, 4 Dancing a funereal measure. Comrades, now the wax is burning, Comrades, now the room is empty. If ye for my soul wear mourning, Come, O butterflies, come quickly!Beyond the Mountains Manuel Gutierrez Najera Poor soul - a swallow that has no more nest Except thy love, my treasure, my delight! A wandering bird that comes to seek this now Its pinions heavy with the dews of night. Let it, oh, let it to thy cottage fly! The restless brooklet boils along its bed; Like skeletons the oak trees in the wood Their arms all grim and motionless outspread. The vale grows dark with night, and slumbers mute The flowers, the scarlet strawberries enfold. From,Though heavy hours I pass & mournful days In solitude, Cervantes is to me A good, true friend: he sweetens gloom with glee; A restful hand upon my head he lays. Life in the hues of nature he portrays; A golden helmet, jeweled brilliantly He gives my dreams, that wander far & free. It is for me he sighs, he laughs, he prays. The Christian & the Cover & the knight Speaks lke a streamlet clear & crystalline. I love & marvel at his spirit bright, Beholding how, by mystic fate's design, The whole world now drinks with & rich delight From deathless sadness of a life divine!Cornucopia Bright in America's deep stores there lies Wealth which outshines the sun in heavens height, Gold of Peru [woke long] roused greed's intensest might In ancient men of old and national races; silvers precious prize [???] Mexico, in streams no summer dries. Chile has copper, burning ruddy bright ruddy to the sight Pearls, Panama, like fine teeth pure & white Diamonds, Brazil, [the like eyes that flash with light] that flash like shining eyes. And if Bolivia lifts, with epic pride Volcanoes, like deep coffers filled with snow, On her steep mountain chain a (the) diadem Colombia spreads her Delphic garlands wide And sees them green the whole year round [long], as though Through her own emeralds she gazed on them! Eagles & Sparrows Cervantes Vigilance Orchids Cornucopia [Within] Bright in America's deep vaults there lies Wealth to outshine the sun in heaven's height Gold of Peru woke longing's greediest might In men of old; & silver's precious prize Gives Mexico, in streams no summer dries Chile her copper, burning ruddy bright Pearls, Panama, like fine teeth, pure & white Diamonds, Brazil, that shine like sparkling eyes; And if Bolivia lifts, with epic pride, Volcanos like deep coffers [full of] filled with snow Of her steep mountain chain the diadem, Colombia spreads her Delphic garlands wide Ands seem them green the whole year long, as though Through her own emeralds she gazed at them!Plenty Chocano Within America's deep stores there lies Wealth to outshine the sun in heaven's height. Gold of Peru roused greed's intensest might In men of old; and silver's precious prize Mexico gives, in streams no summer dries; Chile her copper, burning red and bright: Pearls, Panama, like fine teeth, pure & white; Diamonds, Brazil, that flash like sparkling eyes. And if Bolivia lifts, with epic pride, Volcanos like deep coffers filled with snow, Of her steep mountain chain the diadem; Colombia spreads her Delphic garlands wide, And sees them green the whole year long, as though Through her arms emeralds she gazed on them! The Rivers Chocano The mountain peaks weep tears of icy dew, And o'er the terrible steep slopes they flow, Forming upon their journey, as they go, Fountains and springs in love with heaven's blue. Cracks of the mossy soil they wander through, The torrents prisoning thus their floods, that show Like jewels bright which sparkle, gleam & glow In caskets of green velvet, fair to view. Suddenly silent fall their noises deep; And, like monastic robes in stately flow, They wrap their crystal in thin mists, & there Is born the river, like a flock of sheep That leave upon the sharp rocks as they go Their wool entangled - foam wreaths white & fair.216 Peru The Andes Jose Santos Chocano As winds along, in snowy marble bare, The carver serpent of Laocoön, [Through] O'er a whole continent the Andes run [Braiding] Weaving their mighty knots in shining air. A horror like to Dante's thrills us there [Heroes of might we seem I] A Group of heroes strong we gaze upon Lifting their shields of granite in the sun, With helmets of bright silver, gleaming fair Each hero's heart is filled with boundless grief [woe] [love] Because he loves to shout; he trembles, Light Is rent with woe--but yet no shout we hear In gloomy ecstasy, his one [sole] relief Is to pour downward from the farthest heights A wandering river, like a silent tear.Plenty From the Spanish of Jose Santos Chocano. Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell. Within America's deep stores there lies Wealth which outshines the sun in heaven's height. Peru's rich gold roused greedy longing's might In ancient nations; silver's precious prize Mexico gives, in streams no summer dries. While her copper, burning ruddy bright; Pearls, Panama, like fine teeth, pure and white; Diamonds, Brazil, agleam like sparkling eyes. And if Bolivia lifts, with epic pride, Volcanos like deep coffers filled with snow, Of her steep mountain chain the diadem, Colombia spreads her Delphic garlands wide, And sees them green the whole year long, as though Through her own emeralds the gazed on them! [Diaphanous the sunset]]The sunset [*twilight?*] is diaphanous; it seems A precarious crystal, opening in the skies Its agate luminous. It is a veil In which the lake's clam azure faints and dies. The sunlight fades to pallid amber green On the penumbra's [u?????], soft and clear, A pale star trembles, like a flower of snow. The birds are circling slowly, far and near. The shadow grows, and [while] diamonds through it shine; Among them the shell like purple [fades and] dies. I let my spirit [?], and dream that you Are gazing at me with sad, pale green eyes! 2 copies The Bee Wee sovereign of the forest dense & gray, Spoiled darling of the garden & the wind, The bee flits o'er the fields her food to find, Yet never leaves [the] her bee-hive far away Up to the hilltop, downward to the plain, Always in motion, always honey-fraught, She goes & comes as goes & comes our thought Within the bee-hive of the human brain. [That which] Sweets that she gathers from the blossoms bright She carries to her narrow cell's retreat. She toils, unresting [for her daily bread] till the [sun has fled], day hath sped, Nor thinks, alas! that in her wavering flight Honey she bears to make sad life more sweet, And white wax for the [??ments} of the diad. 2 copies The Eagle and the Dry Leaf Santiago Arguillo (Nicaragua) One day the eagle said, with pride: "None can rise up like me! Sick shivering and giddiness reign where I dare to go. My Adriatic is the air, my gondola the cloud, My canopy a background like purple satin's glow. "No other can soar up like me! Alone I have the power, When [creeping] crawling worms are trembling with the icy chill of night, To pierce to skies inviolate, and find a garden fair Of morning stars, and from its flowers drink [in sweet] in their [draughts of] radiant light. "Oh, with my powerful (pinions?), on days of snow and storm, To cleave the fogs and mists in search of heavens glowing red,-- [And] To drink the hot, consuming rays of [scant sunbeams] sunlight fierce and bright,You hear it, O ye ragged men in yonder neighboring [street] street! Take courage, O ye foolish ours! Be faint of heart no more, Ye ignorant! When o'er the earth a strong, mad whirlwind sweeps, Then higher than the eagles the [dead] dry leaves rise and soar!2 My talons on the sun's been edge, from which his beams are shed!" She spoke, and looked again upon her ornaments of power, And shook her wings as shakes a queen her mantle, royally: "No other can soar up like me!" [I not] Into the clouds she flew, Repeating ever as she rose, "None can soar up like me!" Who art thou?" "A dry leaf." "And whence?" "I come from far above." "[Then] And hast thou wings?" "Nay." "Wingless leaf that on my path ^ I find, Who has breathed into thee this breath [th[?]] which quick thee power to rise Yet higher in the ether than my [royalty] sovereignty?" "The wind!" Cover,Romance Francisca Sosa p 301 Ah, do not fear, my fair one! The weak plant under [bows] & breaks At the first gust, when fiercely The mountain wind awakes The oak tree strong & sturdy Whose [branches give under shade] [?] [?] pleasant shade Beneath whose shade man rests And [for] [from] whose [?] of boughs at greenness The birds mating time [suspend their nests] build unafraid Defies the raging tempest; Through coldest winter days It charms the eye with verdure; Unchanged its foliage stays Oh do not fear, my fair one, Because [To see] cloud-masses form Within the heaven of our love, The heralds fore runners of the stormThis earthly life is struggle To every man alive But the soul comes out victor If it knows how to strive And there are hearts that never Forget, if once they love - [Strong wrestlers like the mountain oak] As strong to strive as mountain oaks Which tempests cannot moveArmouias 317 Antonio Garagoza When in the mournful meadow Fade all the blossoms gay-- When dies the pleasant springtime, The swallows fly away. The fields [are] grow bright with beauty Of others [????] shining springs, The swallows blithe come back again, With jobs upon their wings. When in man's breast the passions Have left sharp thorns alone, Ah, then the soul's illusions Fly as the birds have flown! In vain we [yearn to] seek with yearning Our [tranquil] placid calm of yore-- The swallows of the spirit Come back no more, no more!Blood By Eduardo Talero Nuiñg Blood! noble liquid, purple, rich and bright, That sparkles in the proud glance of the eye, That leaps, and boils, and throbs—is genius high, Movement, and life, and warmth, and power and might. Within the brain of man his thought and light; In battle, courage that can death defy; Passion and fire when love breathes out its sigh upon the lute, from feeling's depth and height. 'Tis the red Burgundy the tyrant rain Wrings our from all his people round about, And purifies within his cup of crime. But when men from the despot crush it out 'Tis the one balsam sovereign and sublime To heal the wound that was their honor's stain. [*has brotar pours out in abandon*] [*[?] [?] out.*]The Alligator's Dream A huge trunk, stranded where the water flows, Beside the stream the alligator waits, His back a mountain chain which that dares the Fates Abysmal jaws, a mighty tail for blows The sunlight round him like a halo glows He swims, in mail of shining armor plated, A metal monster that reverberates And, as it echoes, changeful color shows. Motionless like an idol, girt around With [steel defences] strong steel armor he, [beside the stream] upon the shore In gloomy ecstasy reposes there Like to a prince by some enchantment bound [Condemned forevermore to live and dream] [Who dwells a prisoner, forevermore] Condemned to dwell a prisoner [in a ??] evermore Within a river's crystal palace fair Within his knots a strength lies mysterious Upon his tongue is anger's quivering glow [Across] Over his scales bright shinning currents flow Clearness of emerald [sleeps lurks] dwells within his eyes. He sleeps on roses coiled, in [????] peaceful guise When he uncoils, on his long skin there show Red circles, patterns quaint that coume + go Touches of lights! Crystalline and pictured marks like Glimmer pictures of crystal and of butterflies An S from some strange monogram escaped Goes dancing o'er the green + flowery ground Like a swift firework, shining in our sight. Upon a tree at length his knot [is] hangs draped Enriching it [as] like some rich fair bracelet, wound [In graceful spiral] With grace around a fair arm, [round] smooth & white[*rises, in our sight rears*] Every volcano shows its outlived height As if [to] close to it, hiding the [blue] clear sky, Two unseen hands hung downward from on high The corner of a veil of vapor light. The mountain's crest is white, and purely white With hot desire its heart seethes burningly Strange contrast is the ice to fire so nigh. Like a stern soul above a [*hot*] passion's might [The [?] volcanoes are bare heaps of storm] Volcanoes are grim stone heaps, dark and bare But at their fist the blooming [valleys gleam] [*?*] Like carpets many hued, with birds [*?*] and bowers And [*that*] so, amid those fields of colors fair, Outlined against the blue, they seem to be Baskets oerturned , [*and from [?]*] that overflow with flowers [*pour abroad their flowers and pouring out their flowers*] The Rivers [*summits, hyly*] The mountain peaks weep tears of icy dew And o'er the terrible steep slopes they flow, [*as they creep downward from the snow*] Forming upon their journey as they go, [*Char, [l??f?d]*] Fountains of springs in love with heaven's blue Cracks of the mossy soil they wander through [*The torrents in their narrow prison [wa??s] of the prisoned torrents show The torrents prisoning thus their floods, that show*] Like jewels bright [*rich*] which [*that*] sparkle, [*flesh*] gleam and glow In velvet caskets of the emerald's hue. Suddenly, silent fall their noises [*voices*] deep; And, like monastie robes in stately flow, They wrap their crystal in their mists, and there [The river] Is born the river, like a flock of sheep That leave upon the sharp rocks as they go Their wool entangled—foam flecks white and fair.Forest Love By José Santos Chocano (Peru) Scarce do I wish to be the humble spider [That] Which weaves its web around thee maiden ^ fair, And which, as if exploring some high mountain, Meshes itself in meshes of thine hair. Fain would I be a silk-worm, make my lacework And to the sharp-toothed wheels my cocoon give, That so I might, imprisoned in a garment, Feel thee beneath my silk folds throb and live. Fain would I be a tree and give thee shadow, And with my blooming branches shelter thee, And with my dry leaves make for thee a carpet Where thou shouldst throw thyself to dream with ^ me. I am trackless wood; oh, cleave the pathway! A cavern dark; ah, light thy light in me! I would be condor, jaguar or boa, Whate'er thou choosest I should be for thee. 2 In prisoning a sunbeam in my [bea] beak, or In having seized the lighting in my beak, And thus, with pride, to offer these a pinion To make a fan, to cool they brow and cheek. Fain would I be a forest boa-constrictor Gird with my [circles strong] circles strong thy graceful ^ waist Wrap all thy pulses in my [knots] coils [???] tight woven And, dying, hold thy beauty close embraced. The jaguar that roams upon thy mountains I fain would be to drag thee to my lair And have the power to rend thee entrails ^open And see if haply any heart be there! Metre ---------------- --------------- ---------------- ---------------Leaving his palace, on the lowest stair The Viceroy, smiling in his dignity Turned [once] round, to bid it with his glance goodbye [Clasping] [He held] Holding his sword's gold cross, that glittered fair, Deep stains of blood that sword was wont to wear In battle with the Moors [in years gone by] 'neath Shaw's blue sky From its keen point had stretched that crimson dye [Clear] to its rich carven hilt, a treasure rare An old man [met the Viceroy face to face] there came before the Viceroy's face And asked an alms of him, and not in vain Compassion made his eagle glance grow dim. He, who descended poor from that high place Then broke the costly sword he bore in [pieces] twain That he might give the rich [carven] [sculptured] carved hilt to him.127 Above dear ashes do I carve this urn-- A sweet cool air [breath] of deathless immortillie Decking the Greek fret of the votive urn Whose cup guards dew from heaven's crystal wells. A lark surprised as he took flight to sing Whom an olive bough amid the dale Diana's stature in her nature wood [grove] Wrapped by the Muse of music in her veil. Would [If] such a sculptor might with love On heavenly marble from Carra brought Crowning his fair work with a cross + lyre My dream would be to gave [at [????]] day-dawn Upon a girl's face, while she sheds a tear [I'll] That is all [full of] full of love filled with love all filled [full of] with light! How beautiful appears [in 3 books] my small white house Beside a lake with clear blue water bright! It seems a done that slumbers hid away In a love nest of filmy fabries light. There [when] with the earliest light of breaking dawn When pallid whiteness o'er the sky is poured the holy [sacred] bell appears to mourn aloud The earth is then [one] a song unto the Lord Running together, the cool drops of dew [Flitter] Shimmer like pearls beneath the sun's clear light And [????] the ^rising river mists [that from the] is [?????] the cross The cross [is seen] [Appears ^the cross above our] [river rile] the sanctuary white The birds their love songs chant; with languid sound the waters murmur as they glide along the breezes sigh, the flowers their perfume shed And listen to the sad + distant song And when the shadows wrap the [And sels] When the sun sets below the ocean deep Like some rich fabric with a border white Of pearls and diamonds, now the sea lies fair; Reflecting all the heavens brilliant It yields its turquoise mantle to the air. And now on high in those deep solitudes Far, far above us, in the sky overhead, Pensive and sad the evening star appears in glowing lace of [?] ruby red.Chilmark, Dukes Co., Mass. July 26, 1916. My dear Dr. Goldberg: Your letter, without date, has just reached me. I shall be glad to assist the new magazine, to the extent of an article. I have on hand a lot of translations from Rosenfeld, also a large number from Yehoash; and a good many from the Spanish of the Mexican poet Luis G. Urbina; and many scattering ones from different Spanish American poets. Which would you rather have, an article about Rosenfeld. or about Yehoash, or about Urbina, or about Spanish American poetry in general? I am afraid that This urn I [carve above] chisel o'er the [dear] loved remains Oer the dear ashes I engrave this urn - A cool, sweet bloom of deathless [immortellie?] Decking the carved band of the votive urn Whose top keeps dew from heaven's crystal wells. A passing lark, caught as it flew to sing Upon an olive branch amid the dale - Diana's statue in her native wood, [Wrap the] Wrapped by the Muse of music in her veil. [I] Fair, like a sculptor, [fair] I with loving care Would carve it from Carrara's marble rare, And place a lyre & cross my work above. My dream would be, when dawn fills heaven's deeps, To look upon a [maiden fair] gentle girl that weeps, Shedding a teardrop full of light & love.1 copy Queen's Breast José Santos Chocano She was a Queen of Spain; her name beside We know not, nor her lineage--just the grace With which she stopped her carriage, left her place, Hearing a child that in a [corner] corner cried. "Why are you crying?" Cold the eventide, Hungry to child. She oped her robe a space And gave him the white breasts from its white lace, Like Hungary's queen, [of old] long since saint who died. Our pride is she that fed the hungry child-- Who later, haply, felt his blood aflame With some strange royal right, unknown [unguessed] Our pride it is, that fostering love and mild With which her breast she gave him, was the same With which Spain to a whole world gave her breast! 2 copies Beyond the Mountains Manual Guierrez Najera (Mexico) Poor soul! a see allow that has no more nest Except thy love, my treasure, my delight-- A [wou] waundering bird that comes to seek thee now, Its [?????] dripping with the dews of night. Let it, oh, let it to thy cottage fly! The restless brooklet bails along its bed- Like skeletons the oak trees in the wood Their arms all grim & motionless outspread, The vale grows dark with night; mute slumbers ^now The flowers, the scarlet strawberries enfold: A flitting firefly bright from time to time, Among the leaves, appears a tear of gold. The birds, which hover now with timid flight, Graze with their wings the field that silent lies, And you black cloud that crosses heaven's heights Coils like a giant viper in the skies. Ah me! how darksome is the night of life, How long the way! Worn out & wearied sores The bird, my soul, [?????] + almost dead, Has [fall] fallen faint & powerless in the door. (over)It does not wish to cross the darksome wood; No longer to the mountain can it fly. Its feathers [drop] drip with rain; the warmth of home It has not felt, and it ere long must die Open to it, for on its wings have dropped The leaves of all its loves, now dry and dead There all the tempests of forgetfulness And all the rains of grief their floods have ^shed 1 copy A Votive Urn To Lamberti By [Rube] Ruben Dario This urn I chisel o'er the loud remains; A cool, sweet bloom of death less immortelles Decking the carved [hand of] band of the votive urn Whose top keeps dew from heaven's crystal wells: A passing lark, caught as it flew to sing Upon an olive branch amid the dale-- Diana's statue in her native grove, Wrapped by the Muse of music in her veil. Fain, like6a [I] sculptor, I with loving care Would carve it from Carrara's marble rare, And place a lyre and crown my work above. My dream would be, when dawn fills heaven's deeps, To look upon a gentle girl that weeps, Shedding a teardrop full of light and love.