by Carmen Ruggero
“¿Que es poesía? dices mientras clavas
en mi pupila tu pupila azul.
¡Que es poesía! ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?
Poesía... eres tú.”
— Rimas, by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
What is poetry? you say, as you fix
your blue gaze on mine.
What is poetry! And you need ask?
Poetry... is you.
— Tr. by Carmen Ruggero
with thanks to Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
What is it you’ll remember? you asked.
Will it be the ginger sky at sundown?
Or the scent of rosemary where we basked
as twilight flew in purple wings and drowned
the world surrounding you and me? You smiled:
The way I gaze into your gentle eyes
and question: am I by your charm beguiled?
So much, my passion, I could never guise?
We’ll remember this ginger sky, I said,
when winter calls. We’ll hear the whispered rhymes,
on evening walks, our verse, a moonlit kiss;
this moment — we’ll recall it all through time.
Our poesy, our truth divine and bright,
a sepia vision of a moonlit night.
Copyright © 2004 & 2005 by Carmen Ruggero