THE SERENADE
by: José Asunción
Silva (1865-1896)
- HE street
is deserted, the night is cold,
- The moon glides veiled amid cloud-banks dun;
- The lattice above is tightly closed,
- And the notes ring clearly one by one
- Under his fingers light and strong,
- While the voice that sings tells tender things,
- As the player strikes on his sweet guitar
- The fragile strings.
-
- The street is deserted, the night is cold,
- A cloud has covered the moon from sight.
- The lattice above is tightly closed,
- And the notes are growing more soft and light.
- Perhaps the sound of the serenade
- Seeks the soul of the girl who loves and waits,
- As the swallows seek eaves to build their nests
- When they come in spring with their gentle mates.
-
- The street is deserted, the night is cold,
- The moon shines out from the clouds aloft;
- The lattice above is opened now
- And the notes are growing more low, more soft.
- The singer with fingers light and strong
- Clings to the ancient window's bar,
- And a moan is breathed from the fragile strings
- Of a sweet guitar.
--Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell
"The Serenade" is reprinted
from Hispanic Anthology: Poems Translated from the Spanish
by English and North American Poets. Ed. Thomas Walsh. New
York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1920. |
MORE POEMS BY JOSÉ ASUNCIÓN SILVA |
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