translated from the Spanish of Leopoldo Lugones
Your morose desolation,
a carbon copy of delirium,
puts my soul into mourning.
Yet a sudden phrase of joyful
notes transforms my sigh
into a celestial butterfly.
The taste of fresh rose petals
intoxicates my arid tongue,
and moistens my song unsung:
my naïve happiness in the loss above
only to find the lips of my love.
Themes of love, my humble flute
will sing in ecstatic praise.
I am pale yet happy all my days,
and in the evening, as the piragua sails,
marking the water with childlike nails,
my sweetheart will sing the same salute.