Spanish Poems

Rhyme III. LIKE AN INDIAN HURRICANE...

Like an Indian Hurricane
Lending its impetus
To lash the ocean main;
Stirring the sluggish brain,
- A quickening incubus.

Murmurs, which in the soul
Rise and increase in ire,
With hoarse announcement roll
Deep in the crater's bowl,
- Like a volcano's fire.

Mis-shapen sillhouettes
Of non-existing things;
Landscapes, that one forgets,
Seen, as through gauzy nets
- Or magic mirrorings.

Colors, which blending glow
Within the air; the bright
Atoms to atoms grow
Till the celestial bow
- Swims in prismatic light.

Words, of all meaning shorn,
Sense, quite bereft of words;
Cadences rudely torn
From rhythm, measure, norm,
- Like broken potter's sherds.

Mem'ries and vain desires
For things we ne'er have known;
Joy, which the fancy fires,
Tears that the heart requires
- When we're alone.

Nervous activity
Seeking to find a mean
For some utility;
Steed of high quality
- Without a guiding rein.

Madness, that steeps the soul
In fierce elation;
Draughts from the celestial bowl,
Creative genius as a whole, -
- This is inspiration.

Tremendous voice which regulates
The chaos of the brain;
Which lowering shadows dissipates,
Restoring light again.

Resplendent rein of gold, to curb
With power the flying steed,
When frantic fancies him disturb
And he is deaf to heed.

Refulgent thread of light, which binds
In fagots our strewn thought;
Sun, which in vaulted zenith shines,
Breaking through clouds, as naught.

Discerning hand, persisting e'er
To re-unite and bring
Our untamed words within a rare
And richly jeweled ring.

Harmonious rhythm, which confines
Within a certain bound
The fleeting notes and deftly twines
A measured cadence round.

Chisel, which bites the sculptor's block,
Uniting in this duty
Ideals, which our senses mock
With perfect plastic beauty.

The region, where in ordered troops
Ideas may revolve;
Where atoms form concentric groups
From secret, joint resolve.

Pellucid spring, whose balmy waves
Assuage the thirst of fever;
Oasis, which the spirit craves
As vigor's best retriever.

Such is our reason.

Forever battling with them, stroke for stroke,
Forever conqueror of both, - no one
Can bring them both beneath a common yoke
Except the force of genius alone.

Translated by Jules Renard

RHYME III. STRANGE AGITATION...

Strange agitation
That flings up ideas,
As billows in tumult
When hurricane blows;

Murmur within the sould
Rising and swelling,
As a muffled foretelling
Of volcanic throes;

Silhouettes formless
Of beings impossible;
Scenes that, as through a veil
Spectral beseem;

Blending of colors,
In the air mimicking
Motes of the iris
That swim in the beam;

Thoughts without words,
Words without reason;
Harmonies rhythmless
That measureless sweep;

Memories and longings
For things that never are;
Kindlings of joyousness,
Urgings to weep;

Buoyant activity
Lacking a goal to seek;
Wing'd courser, guided
To no destination;

Madness exalting,
Inflaming the spirit;
Creator of genius,
Divine ebriation ...
Such is Inspiration!

Great voice commanding
The chaos of the brain;
Voice that amidst the shades
Ordains the light;

Bright golden curb
With power restraining
Of the exalted mind
The wing'd courser's flight;

Threads of light binding
The thoughts together;
Sun that, dispelling clouds,
To zenith whirls;

Intelligent hand that
succeeds in uniting
Unruly words into
A circlet of pearls;

Harmonious rhythm that
With number and measure
Encloses the fugitive
Notes in the scale;

Chisel that bites the block
Forming the statue,
And weds plastic beauty
Unto the ideal;

Ether wherein ideas
Swing in good order,
As atoms that hidden
Attraction doth bind;

Torrent where fever
Its hot thirst assuages;
Oasis where the soul
New strength doth find ...
Such is the Mind!

With both ever struggling,
And victory over twain,
Only genius to one yoke
The two may enchain.

Translated by Young Allison