Awake—I tremble before thee - Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

Awake—I tremble before thee;

Asleep—I may dare to behold thee:

So, life of my life, let me watch

While thou sleepest.

Awake, thou laugh’st, and as they laugh, thy lips,

So restless, seem to me

Like scarlet lightnings circling

Upon a heaven of snow.

Asleep, the corners of thy mouth

A light smile upcurls,

Sweet as the luminous trail

Left by the dying sun—

Sleep!

Awake, thou speak’st, and as thou speak’st, thy words

Vibrating seem

A rain of pearls that in a golden cup

Plashes in torrents.

But while thou sleep'st, in thy breath’s beat

So regular, so soft,

A poem murmurs to my heart, which Love,

Kind Love, interprets—

Sleep!

Upon my heart my hand is pressed

Lest its wild beating mar

And trouble the deep calm

And solemn peace of night.

And o’er thy window I have drawn

The shutters close, lest soon

The unwelcome light

Of the red dawn awake thee—

Sleep!

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Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (Gustavo Adolfo Domínguez Bastida) (1836 - 1870) Spain

Translated by Mrs. Humphry Ward

Source: 'Spanish Romanticist, Gustavo Becquer', by Mrs. Humphry Ward, in Macmillan's Magazine, Vol XVIII, November 1882 to April 1883, Macmillan & Co., 1883