Sonnet 45 (from Cien Sonetos de Amor)
Who ever loved as we love? Let us seek
the ancient ashes of every burned-up heart,
and let our kisses fall there, one by one,
resurrecting each forsaken flower.
Let us love the love that devours its own fruit,
that descends to earth with grace and power:
you and I will be its ceaseless light,
its delicate, yet unbendable, stalk.
Let us carry the light of the new-found apple
to the love that has been buried in cold so long,
through winter and spring, autumn and oblivion.
Let us bring a new freshness, open as a wound,
like that ancient love that still travels in silence
through an eternity of mouths buried underground.
Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2015