We present this work in honor of the poet’s 150th birthday.

 

That I love you, without rival, you knew it
and the Lord knows it; never flirt
the erratic grass to the friendly forest
how your being joined my sad soul

And in my memory your life persists
with the sweet murmur of a song
already the nostalgia of your love mitigates
my mourning that resists oblivion.

Diaphanous spring that does not run out,
you live in me and in my austere aridity
your freshness mixes drop by drop.

You went to my desert the palm tree,
To my bitter skin the seagull,
And you will only die when I die!