Vesperal

por Rubén Darío

Ha pasado la siesta

y la hora de Poniente se avecina,

y hay ya frescor en esta

costa, que el sol de Trópico calcina.

Ha un suave alentar de aura marina

y el Occidente finge una floresta

que una llama de púrpura ilumina.

Sobre la arena dejan los cangrejos

la ilegible escritura de sus huellas.

Conchos color de rosa ye de reflejos

áureos, caracolillos y fragmentos de estrellas

de mar, forman alfombra

sonante al paso, con la armoniosa orilla.

Y cuando Venus brilla,

dulce, imperial amor de la divina tarde,

creo que en la onda suena

o són de lira, o canto de sirena.

Y en mi alma otro lucero,

como el de Venus, arde.

Late Afternoon

 translated from the Spanish of Rubén Darío

The time for siesta has passed,

and now the hour of the West Wind approaches.

Already the coastal air is fresh and cool,

despite the scorching efforts of a Tropic sun.

The sea itself exhales a soft, gentle breath of air

which bathes a Western forest with purple light;

while, upon the shore, a fleet of crabs

write illegible scripts upon the sand.

Shells of all descriptions – rose-colored, pink,

and some that seem imbued with gold –

fragmented from marine snails and starfish –

form a carpet,

noisy to the step, but harmonious with the sea.

When the luminous brilliance of Venus –

that imperial love of the evening divine –

sparkles the heavens, I hear the sirens’ song

amidst the waves – and an ancient lyre.

And in my soul I find there burns another star,

alike to Venus, but brighter still.