I go by dreaming roads

Translated by Ana Orbegozo

I go by dreaming roads in the evening. The hills all golden, the green pines, the dust-covered holm oaks! … Where will the road go?

I go by singing, traveller along the trail… – twilight now falls –.

In my heart I had the thorn of a passion; I managed one day to pull it out: I now no longer feel my heart.

And all the wilderness for a moment stays mute and sombre, in meditation. The wind sighs in the poplars by the stream.

The evening turns yet darker; and the road, that’s snaked and weakly whitened, grows clouded and fades.

My song returns to moaning: Oh, sharp thorn of gold, To feel you once more in my heart plunged.