a recent translation from 16th century spanish......
enjoy! or not......
the original spanish was by St. John of the Cross.
here's my version:
On a dark night
with a thirst for love, enflamed,
oh blessed flight!
Without notice I left
my house finally calm.
Darkly free, and secure
by a secret way I descended,
oh blessed flight!
Darkly free, and hiding away,
my house finally calm.
In the blessed night
in secret, no-one seeing me
nor I a single thing,
without another light and guide,
only the way of the heart burning.
That burning guided me
more certain than light of mid-day,
to where he awaited me,
he who knows me well,
in a place where no-one had been.
Oh night! Such a guide!
Oh night! More kind than dawn!
Oh night! Who joins
lover and beloved,
beloved transformed in the lover!
Upon my blooming chest,
in which I bury what for him alone is guarded,
yonder he stayed sleeping,
and I rewarded him,
and the breeze was given the air of cedars.
The breeze from the battlements,
when I played my fingers through his hair,
with his serene hand
he smote my nape,
and all my senses were suspended.
I stayed, and forgot myself,
my face bent over the lover,
all ceased, and I left myself
leaving my worry among the forgotten lilies.
the original spanish was by St. John of the Cross.
here's my version:
On a dark night
with a thirst for love, enflamed,
oh blessed flight!
Without notice I left
my house finally calm.
Darkly free, and secure
by a secret way I descended,
oh blessed flight!
Darkly free, and hiding away,
my house finally calm.
In the blessed night
in secret, no-one seeing me
nor I a single thing,
without another light and guide,
only the way of the heart burning.
That burning guided me
more certain than light of mid-day,
to where he awaited me,
he who knows me well,
in a place where no-one had been.
Oh night! Such a guide!
Oh night! More kind than dawn!
Oh night! Who joins
lover and beloved,
beloved transformed in the lover!
Upon my blooming chest,
in which I bury what for him alone is guarded,
yonder he stayed sleeping,
and I rewarded him,
and the breeze was given the air of cedars.
The breeze from the battlements,
when I played my fingers through his hair,
with his serene hand
he smote my nape,
and all my senses were suspended.
I stayed, and forgot myself,
my face bent over the lover,
all ceased, and I left myself
leaving my worry among the forgotten lilies.