José Martí -Verso IV. Yo visitaré anhelante...-

Verso IV. Yo visitaré anhelante...

Yo visitaré anhelante
Los rincones donde a solas
Estuvimos yo y mi amante
Retozando con las olas.

Solos los dos estuvimos,
Solos, con la compañía
De dos pájaros que vimos
Meterse en la gruta umbría.

Y ella, clavando los ojos,
En la pareja ligera,
Deshizo los lirios rojos
Que le dio la jardinera.

La madreselva olorosa
Cogió con sus manos ella,
Y una madama graciosa,
Y un jazmín como una estrella.

Yo quise, diestro y galán,
Abrirle su quitasol;
Y ella me dijo: "¡Qué afán!
¡Si hoy me gusta ver el sol!"

"Nunca más altos he visto
Estos nobles robledales:
Aquí debe estar el Cristo,
Porque están las catedrales."

"Ya sé dónde ha de venir
Mi niña a la comunión;
De blanco la he de vestir
Con un gran sombrero alón."

Después, del calor al peso,
Entramos por el camino,
Y nos dábamos un beso
En cuanto sonaba un trino.

¡Volveré, cual quien no existe,
Al lago mudo y helado:
Clavaré la quilla triste:
Posaré el remo callado!


Verse IV. Some day I'll visit longingly...

Someday I'll visit longingly
All the places where, unseen,
My lover and I have been
Playing with waves by the sea.

The two of us were alone
Except for the company
Of twain birds that we could see
Had to the dark cavern flown.

On the pair as light as air
Her eyes rivetted would stay,
While she the red iris spray,
The gardener gave her, would tear.

The sweet honeysuckle rose
Her hands gathered from the dell,
And lovely touch-me-nots, as well,
Where the starlike jasmine grows.

I, the gallant beau, begun
To open her parasol;
And she said, "Don't think me droll
If I'd rather see the sun!''

"I've never seen sphires as tall
As the noble oaks appear:
Surely, the Christ must be here
Because here is his cathedral.''

"For my daughter's first communion,
I know now the place that's best:
All in white she will be dressed
With a hat curved like a pinion."

When on the path we'd set out
The heat was too much to bear,
My lover and I kissed there
Whenever a trill let out.

As one who can no longer feel
The quiet, frozen lake I'll tour:
There I'll lay down the stilled oar,
And there shall bury the sad keel!