Jose Asuncion Silva poems

Jose Asuncion Silva(1865 - 1896 / Colombia)
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Dusk

- by Jose Asuncion Silva 24

The lamp that stands beside the crib
Is not yet lighted to warm the gloom
Of the blueish, opaque light falling
Through the curtains of late afternoon.

From outside come unfamiliar sounds
And weary children interrupt their play
While in every corner of the house
Fairies awaken at the end of day.

Shadows gathering among the drapes
Rustle and murmur to childish ears,
And from the pages of their storybooks
Come all their favorite characters.

First, industrious Rin Rin Renacuajo,
And Mouse Pérez, scurrying to survive,
Then, casting even deeper shadows,
Blue Beard, who killed his seven wives.

Given life in darkest corners,
Somewhere in a distant wood
Puss-in-Boots strides through the meadows
And the Wolf stalks Little Red Ridinghood.

In a deep dark forest echoing
With chilling howls, the handsome Prince,
On his white charger, rides toward
Sleeping Beauty, who awaits his kiss.

The children's voices, silver and pure,
Form a chorus that speaks as one:
“Then they went to the ball and left
Poor Cinderella all alone.

“She wiped away her flowing tears
And scrubbed the kitchen pots and bowls
Watching the dance leaping among
Somber shadows and glowing coals.

“But her fairy godmother soon appeared
With a beauteous gown and, in a thrice,
From a pumpkin produced a golden coach
With prancing steeds, once six white mice.

“She gave Cinderella a lush bouquet
And a glass slipper she quickly donned,
She turned ashes to flashing jewels
With one wave of her magic wand.”

Abandoned dolls tossed on the carpet,
The listening girls sit in thrall,
The light grows pale and dark creeps in
As lowering evening shadows fall.

Wondrous stories of fairies and sprites
Are alive with ideas and fantasies,
They open to childish imaginations
A whole world of possibilities!

Stories born of times long gone,
Wing through the dark of ages,
From powerful, early Aryan tribes
To diminished future races.

These stories are told by nannies
When children can't get to sleep,
The essence of poetic dream
Is the mystery they keep.

These stories have proved more lasting
Than tomes of the philosophers
And with every generation
Have entertained our ancestors.

O tales of elves and ghosts and fairies
That people the dreams all children have,
Time buries you forever in our soul
And man evokes you with his love.

Nocturne III

- by Jose Asuncion Silva 19

One night
one night all full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings;
one night
in which fantastic fireflies burnt in the humid nuptial shadows,
slowly by my side, pressed altogether close, silent and pale,
as if a presentiment of infinite bitternesses
agitated you unto the most hidden fibers of your being,
along the flowering path which crosses the plain
you walked;
and the full moon
in the infinite and profound blue heavens scattered its white light;
and your shadow,
fine and languid,
and my shadow
projected by the rays of the moon,
upon the sorrowful sands
of the path, joined together;
and they became one,
and they became one,
and they became only one long shadow,
and they became only one long shadow,
and they became only one long shadow....

Tonight
alone; my soul
full of the infinite bitternesses and agonies of your death,
separated from you by time, by the tomb and by distance,
by the infinite blackness
where our voice cannot reach,
silent and alone
along the path I walked ...
And the barking of dogs at the moon could be heard,
at the pale moon,
and the chirping
of the frogs ...
I felt cold. It was the coldness that in your alcove
your cheeks and your temples and your adoréd hands possessed
within the snowy whiteness
of the mortuary sheets.
It was the coldness of the sepulcher, it was the ice of death,
it was the coldness of oblivion.
And my shadow,
projected by the rays of the moon,
walked alone,
walked alone,
walked alone along the solitary plain;
and your shadow, svelte and agile,
fine and languid,
as in that warm night of springtime death,
as in that night full of murmurings, of perfumes and music of wings,
approached and walked with mine,
approached and walked with mine,
approached and walked with mine ... Oh, the shadows intertwined!
Oh, the corporeal shadows united with the shadows of the souls!
Oh, the seeking shadows in those nights of sorrows and of tears!

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Poems by Jose Asuncion Silva, Jose Asuncion Silva's poems collection. Jose Asuncion Silva is a classical and famous poet (1865 - 1896 / Colombia). Share all poems of Jose Asuncion Silva.

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