Translation:The Black Heralds (1918)/Fresco
I came to confuse myself with her,
so much...! Through her spiritual
contradictions, I would go
playing in soft strawberry fields,
between her Greek hands of the morning.
She would help me adjust later the black and
bohemian knots of the necktie. And I
again would look at the absorbed
stone, the slighted benches, and the clock
that would envelop us in its reel,
as it turned endlessly.
Those good nights,
that today joke with her
about my strange dying,
about my pensive ways.
Sweets of gold,
jewels of sugar
that in the end will break
in the stone mortar of this world.
But for the tears of love,
the stars are pretty handkerchiefs,
in white,
orange,
green,
that drench the heart.
And if much is bitter in these silks,
there is a caress that is never born,
that never dies,
another great apocalyptic handkerchief flies;
the blue, revelatory hand of God!