FLEUR D' OR
For Señor
Mariano Brull
Life is a flower
Petalled with gold,
And, as each hour
In the bells is tolled,
And shadows crawl
From the setting sun,
The petals fall
One by one.
TO A YOUNG POET
A Mariano
Brull
Before Life’s altar that
the fates have wrought
of iron and of granite and
of gold,
open the bowels of your
whitest thought,
and there your luted
letanies be told.
And there the vintage of
your love be spilt;
and there the incense of
your days take fire,
before Life’s altar that
the fates have built
of hope and hunger sadness
and desire.
For she is wrathful, fond
of sacrifice
and jealous as the Jewish
god whose name
became a sword of fire in
Paradise
and in the desert a huge
cloud aflame.
And she is fair, as the
Sultanas are
in Eastern tales, and on
her forehead glows
a diadem of gold that
holds a star
of opal glamour, petalled
like a rose.
A day shall come (and for
that day prepare!)
when he whose roseal feb
trod on the sea
shall sit beside these
goddess dreadly fair
and wed her pride to His
humility,
and the thought you will
have a sacrificed,
the wine you will have
spilt, and your burnt days,
shall be returned to you
the Lord Christ
blessed with His blessing,
filled with His sweet grace.
And you will dwell with
the enthroned twain,
and yours will be the opal
flower that glows
of Life’s gold diadem, the
star of pain,
the dream-perfuming,
everlasting rose!
El REGALO DEL ÁNGEL
A
Salomón de la Selva
El ángel vino a mí con el
orto del día;
era blanco y luciente como
hostia al azar;
traía manchas pálidas de
la rosada aurora;
y el iris fulgurante del
postrimer rocío.
Llegóse a mí en silencio,
y se inclinó con gracia
candorosa; sus rizos
volaron en el aire;
sus manos se juntaron en
ademán de gracia,
y hasta mi ser llegaron
los dones celestiales.
Yo te recuerdo, ángel: tú
eres el mismo, aquel
a quien recé en las noches
lejanas de mi infancia.
¡Cuántas veces me dije de
regalo tus dones:
un sueño sosegado, y una
quietud de alma…!
El ángel que a los niños
regala dulces sueños,
blanco y luciente, como
una hostia al azar,
me llenó de una clara
alegría de cielo,
me dio un sueño de niño, y
una paz suave y blanca.
"Fleur d' or", en Tropical town an other poems (Londres y Nueva York, John Lane and Co., 1918); “To
a young poet” y “El regalo del ángel”, en La
casa del silencio (Madrid, M. García y Galo Sáenz, 1916).
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