¿Qué es lo que guardo en estos
momentos de tristeza?
¡Ay!, ¿quién tala mis bosques
dorados y floridos?
¿Qué leo en el espejo
de plata conmovida
que la aurora me ofrece
sobre el agua del río?
¿Qué gran olmo de idea
se ha tronchado en mi bosque?
¿Qué lluvia de silencio
me deja estremecido?
on this road?
If you go very far,
my bird will weep
and the green grapevine
won’t give its wine.
“What is that which resounds
so far away?”
“Love,
the wind against the window panes,
my love!”
You will never know,
sphinx of snow,
how much I
would have loved you
in these early mornings
when it rains so much
and on the dry bough
the nest falls apart.
“What is that which resounds
so far away?”
“Love,
the wind against the window panes,
my love!”