Giving a name to your moss music
without dissipating mists that look at you?
The voice of an urgent aroma of jasmine
and the moon spilling over the blind path in the night.
Descending in sadness the stairs
to get lost among ancient pines
and finding relief from the present
in the mirrors of the desolate snow.
She leaves her burning caress,
travelling in circles on the wind,
a snail captures her uncertainly,
finally to return her reclined and pale,
in the dead of a silent landscape.
And not knowing how to name you,
so that, once again afflicted,
you climb the paths of moon and jasmine!
Oh, cloud voice! Oh, elusive of absence shape and tears:
you die and I do not know how to call you!
Oh, Velvet!
Hérib Campos Cervera (1905 - 1953) Paraguay
Translation by Bruce Levitan, (based on Google translate and the translation on the source page)
Source: Meeting Benches
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