Three verses

Sister Pilar, are your eyes still so black?
And your mouth so fresh and red?
And your breasts...? How are they?
Oh, do you recall how you would come into my room late at night, calling to me like a mother, telling me off like a child?

Sister! We stripped off our ardent bodies
In endless and senseless profusion....
It was autumn and the sun - don't you remember?
Added sweet sadness to the white splendour of our abode

"When she fled, in a flight of deranged wimples,
from the impetuous will of my desire
she would seek shelter in a corner, like a cat ...
but her nails were sweeter than my kisses.

Juan Ramón Jiménez

via The Guardian. Y en Castellano.

Hermana Pilar,
¿tienes aún tan negros tus ojos?
¿Y tu boca tan fresca y tan roja?
Y tus pechos... ¿cómo tienes los pechos?
Ay, ¿te acuerdas cuando entrabas en las altas horas en mi cuarto,
cuando me llamabas como una madre, cuando me reñías como a un niño?

¡Hermana! Deshojábamos nuestros cuerpos ardientes
en una profusión sin fin y sin sentido...
era otoño y el sol -¿te acuerdas?- endulzaba tristemente la estancia de un fulgor blanquecino...

Cuando huía, en un vuelo de tocas trastornadas,
de la impetuosa voluntad de mi deseo,
se refugiaba en un rincón, como una gata...
pero sus uñas eran más dulces que mis besos...

via El País.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all bellow,
A heart whose love is innocent!


She walks in beauty
Lord Byron

From Before the sunset