In My Twilight Sky (from Veinte Poemas de Amor)
In my twilight sky, you are something like a cloud
and your form and color are just as I adore them.
You are mine, you are mine, O sweet-lipped woman.
My dreams live on forever, yet only through your life.
The lamp of my soul throws color upon your feet,
and my sour wine is somehow sweeter on your lips:
O harvester of my evening song,
how my lonely dreams believe you are mine!
You are mine, you are mine, I am shouting in the breeze
of the afternoon, when the wind drags my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my gaze, your theft
is as perfect as the water in your nighttime eyes.
In the nets of my music you are prey, my love
and the nets of my music are as wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your mournful eyes.
Your mournful eyes, where the land of dreams begins.
Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2015
(Photo by Irma Haselberger)