y a tu altar se agrupa junto a ellas
la apretada fila de mujeres ...
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One girl
I
Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough,
Atop on the topmost twig, — which the pluckers forgot, somehow, —
Forget it not, nay; but got it not, for none could get it till now.
II
Like the wild hyacinth flower which on the hills is found,
Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear and wound,
Until the purple blossom is trodden in the ground.
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Amor ha agitado mis entrañas
como el huracán que sacude monte abajo las encinas.
Viniste.
Hiciste bien.
Yo te estaba aguardando.
Has prendido fuego a mi corazón,
que se abrasa de deseo. »
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