translated from the Spanish by Thomas Walsh
There is twilight grey and gloomy
Where the sea its velvet trails;
Out across the heavens roomy
Draw the veils.
Bitter and sonorous rises
The complaint from out the deeps,
And the wave the wind surprises
Weeps.
Viols there amid the gloaming
Hail the sun that dies,
And the white spray in its foaming
“Miserere” sighs.
Harmony the heavens embraces,
And the breeze is lifting free
To the chanting of the races
Of the sea.
Clarions of horizons calling
Strike a symphony most rare,
As if mountain voices calling
Vibrate there.
As though dread, unseen, were walking,
As though awesome echoes bore
On the distant breeze’s quaking
The lion’s roar.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on October 6, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.
