Saturday, 19 November 2016

You Leave with Something of Mine - Medardo Ángel Silva

You leave with something of mine the afternoons you go away…
The pain of loving is the pain of living
and the drizzle in an ancient passageway
invades me with the infinite desire to sob.

What childlike things you say to me…“Who would give me
forever a juvenile carelessness,
To be from the day’s kingdom, of the spring and
The nightingale that sings at daybreak in April.”

“Ah, to be youthful, to be pure, to be melodious, to be a soft
trilling, perfume or song, twilight or the first light of dawn
Like the flower scent of life… I’m not familiar with it,
Like heavenly bodies that light up the night…and I ignore it!”

Medardo Ángel Silva (1898 - 1919) Ecuador
Translated by Vincent Lee
Source: Vincent Lee's blog Se va con algo mío…

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