Volverán las oscuras golondrinas
en tu balcón sus nidos a colgar,
y otra vez con el ala a sus cristales
jugando llamarán.

Pero aquellas que el vuelo refrenaban
tu hermosura y mi dicha a contemplar,
aquellas que aprendieron nuestros nombres...
¡esas... no volverán!

Volverán las tupidas madreselvas
de tu jardín las tapias a escalar,
y otra vez a la tarde aún más hermosas
sus flores se abrirán.

Pero aquellas, cuajadas de rocío
cuyas gotas mirábamos temblar
y caer como lágrimas del día...
¡esas... no volverán!

Volverán del amor en tus oídos
las palabras ardientes a sonar;
tu corazón de su profundo sueño
tal vez despertará.

Pero mudo y absorto y de rodillas
como se adora a Dios ante su altar,
como yo te he querido...; desengáñate,
¡así... no te querrán!

Trans. Allison Young (1924)

Dusky swallows again will come
Upon thy balcony their nests to swing,
And tap their wings upon thy window- panes
In playful fluttering;

But those which slackened in their flight,
Thy beauty and my fortune their con- cern;
Those which even came to know our names…
Those…will ne’er return!

Twining honeysuckle will come
Again thy garden wall to clamber o’er,
And spread again upon the air its blossoms,
Fairer than all before;

But those, bediamonded with dew,
Whose drops we two were wont to watch aquiver
And fall, as they were tears of limpid morning…
Those…will come back never!

Burning words of love will come
Again full oft within thine ears to sound;
Perchance thy heart will even be aroused
From its sleep profound;
But mute and prostrate and absorbed,
As God is worshipped in His holy fane,
As I have loved thee…undeceive thyself:
Thou wilt not be thus loved again!


Loose Trans. Robert Lowell (1976)

Dark swallows will doubtless come back killing
the injudicious nightflies with a clack of the beak;
but these that stopped full flight to see your beauty
and my good fortune… as if they knew our names -
they’ll not come back. The thick lemony honeysuckle,
climbing from earthroot to your window,
will open more beautiful blossoms to the evening;
but these… like dewdrops, trembling, shining, falling,
the tears of day – they’ll not come back…
Some other love will sound his fireword for you
and wake your heart, perhaps, from its cool sleep;
but silent, absorbed, and on his knees,
as men adore God at the altar, as I love you -
don’t blind yourself, you’ll not be loved like that.