^{translated from the Spanish by Francisco Javier Vingut}

                                 I.

   Hard my path on earth is closed;
Light is dead within my heart.
Star of Hope! thou art gone down;
   Clay and spirit now must part!

                                II. 

   Land of flowers! no more thy breezes
Sweetly shall my forehead kiss.
Sky of Love! Thy beams of light
   Shed no more celestial bliss!

                                III.

   Foreign shores, o’er seas afar,
I sought alone with many a tear
Home is lost! no more of love,
   No more of friends, no mother dear!

                                IV.

   Harp of mine! thy woeful strains,
Sadly echoing, soon shall die;
Words no more with notes shall twine,——
   Winds mid graves my lullaby.

                                V.

   Dark and lone my grave will be
From Cuba far, unmarked, unknown:
Birds will chant my requiem wild,
   And dew-drops fall for tears alone.

                                VI.

   Fate, O Fate! I fain would read
The record in thy book for me;——
Death, draw near! I list thy call;
   Ope thy gates, Eternity!

El Último Canto Del Desterrado

                                I.

   Cerrarse ya mi senda en esta vida
Y el alma está sumida en hondo suelo,
Porque en la noche del dolor sombrío
La estrella de esperanza huyó á otro cielo.

                                II.

   Tierra de flores! Ya no mas tus brisas
Plácidas besarán mi frente oscura.
Cielo de amor! No mas tus esplendores
Lloverán sobre mí paz y ventura.

                                III.

   Solitario, infeliz, playas lejanas
Y extranjeras regué con triste llanto:
Perdí mi dulce hogar, patria y amigos
Y aun perdí de mi madre el amor santo!

                                IV.

Pronto, harpa mia, morirán tus notas
En ecos tristes de confuso acento:
La voz del canto espirará en mis labios,
Arrebatada al punto por el viento.

                                V.

Triste y sola será mi pobre tumba
Léjos de Cuba, en un rincón sombrío:
Silvestres aves cantarán mi réquiem
Y lágrimas por mí dará el rocío.

                                VI.

Mi sentencia, oh, destino, he visto escrita
De tu libro en las pájinas ya abiertas:
Muerte, ven! Yo respondo á tu llamada.
Sublime Eternidad, abre tus puertas.

If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
   And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!