Table talk - Manuel Magallanes Moure

The little old lady laughs like a little girl, going

On with the tale of this and that happy day.

Says the little old lady, “Oh, what times were they

When I fell in love without Grandmother’s knowing!"

The little old lady is a little rogue, showing

A malicious twinkle in the depths of her eyes.

How distinct the silver of her hair one descries

Against the caramel-tinted skin glowing.

The little old lady forgets how dull or shady

Life may be; and the wrinkles laugh over her face.

Sweet tremors through her blessed old body race:

And my dear looks at me and I look at my dear,

And we laugh, and we laugh . . . all the while we hear

The white history of the loves of the little old lady.

---

Manuel Magallanes Moure (1878-1924) Chile

Translated by Muna Lee

Source: Poetry Vol XXVI no. 111 June 1925 (Poetry Foundation)