In my
night, so brief, alas
The wind is about to meet the leaves.
My night so brief is filled with devastating anguish
Hark! Do you hear the whisper of the shadows?
This happiness feels foreign to me.
I am accustomed to despair.
Hark! Do you hear the whisper of the shadows?
There, in the night, something is happening
The moon is red and anxious.
And, clinging to this roof
That could collapse at any moment,
The clouds, like a crowd of mourning women,
Await the birth of the rain.
One second, and then nothing.
Behind this window,
The night trembles
And the earth stops spinning.
Behind this window, a stranger
Worries about me and you.
You in your greenery,
Lay your hands – those burning memories –
On my loving hands.
And entrust your lips, replete with life's warmth,
To the touch of my loving lips
The wind will carry us!
The wind is about to meet the leaves.
My night so brief is filled with devastating anguish
Hark! Do you hear the whisper of the shadows?
This happiness feels foreign to me.
I am accustomed to despair.
Hark! Do you hear the whisper of the shadows?
There, in the night, something is happening
The moon is red and anxious.
And, clinging to this roof
That could collapse at any moment,
The clouds, like a crowd of mourning women,
Await the birth of the rain.
One second, and then nothing.
Behind this window,
The night trembles
And the earth stops spinning.
Behind this window, a stranger
Worries about me and you.
You in your greenery,
Lay your hands – those burning memories –
On my loving hands.
And entrust your lips, replete with life's warmth,
To the touch of my loving lips
The wind will carry us!
En mi noche, tan breve, ah
El viento tiene una cita con las hojas.
Mi noche tan breve está llena de arrolladora angustia
Escucha! ¿Puedes oír el susurro de las sombras?
Esta felicidad es ajena para mí
estoy acostumbrada a
la desesperación.
Escucha! ¿Puedes oír el susurro de las sombras?
Ahí, en la noche, algo está sucediendo
La luna está roja y ansiosa.
Y, aferradas al techo
que podría
derrumbarse en cualquier momento,
las nubes, como una multitud de mujeres dolientes,
esperan el nacimiento de la lluvia.
Un segundo, y luego nada.
Detrás de la ventana,
la noche tiembla
y la tierra parece detenerse.
Detrás de la ventana, un extraño
se preocupa por mí y por ti.
Tú en tu verdor,
tiendes tus manos –esos recuerdos ardientes-
en mis amorosas manos.
Y confías tus labios, repletos de vital calor
al contacto de mis amantes labios,
El viento nos llevará!
(Traducción al español por la autora de este blog)
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