Over the green prairie, with hushed voices,
We wandered, she and I.
The moon rose clear and bright above the mountain,
The nightingale was singing to the sky.
And I said . . . I know not what I told her.
My gentle love looked up, distressed and pale.
The moving moon had veiled herself with shadows;
Hushed was the nightingale.
Do you know those questions mute and holy
Which even to themselves an answer make?
Guard, O moon, the secret of my spirit—
O nightingale, your silence never break.
Fabio Fiallo (1866 - 1942) Dominican Republic
Translated by Muna Lee
Source: Poetry Vol XXVI no. 111 June 1925 (Poetry Foundation)
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