Madrigals (translated by Paulette Schmidt) from Issue 55
The rivers and woods are silent,
And the placid seas;
The winds are at peace
In their dark caves. In the night
The disk of white
Moon makes us mute;
And we hind, one from the other, love’s sweetness:
Would that our love neither speak nor breathe,
Would that our kisses be as soundless as my sighs.
Just now we hear the whispering of the waves,
The trembling of green leaves
In the morning wind.
And on the branches
The birds are softly singing.
Just now in the East the lustrous dawn appears.
Her smile in the mirror of the sea
Calms the sky.
The tranquil field are pearled by the same frost
That shimmers gold on the faraway mountains:
Beautiful Aurora, gracious goddess of the dawn,
The morning wind’s your messenger, and you the wind’s
And the heart rises,
Whole, from its own ashes.