Venice masks

Sunday 13 November 2022

What solitude you have - Carmen González Huguet

What solitude you have if you are asleep.
What dreadful silence in the night.
I peer into the mysterious abyss
Where there is no light, or name, or sound.

And I don't find you, God.
But you name and call me in my ear, silently,
And in all your creatures,
I hear the melodious song of born love.

Lift me from the depth of failure.
Come with me in the midst of the people
Until the sad hour of sunset.

Take me, river, from your dark source
To rest with you, step by step,
Sweetly, profoundly, passionately.

Wait for me on the shore of the afternoon,
Divine love, in this blind appointment.
The rain enveloped in fine mist comes
And hides in the absence of the cowardly sun.

Don't ask me, Friend, to wait for you
Under this sky that overwhelms my body.
Dilute perhaps the fire of the surrender
That which burns in the center of the fire?

I wait for you here, Lord, I always wait for you.
But how long you take. Emotion captivates
My poor heart of wounded love.

The years go by. I die of waiting.
Take me now, Lord, with you above,
And receive me in your promised heaven.

Carmen González Huguet (born 1958) El Salvador
Translated by Virginia M. Forrester

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