Juan Ramon Jimenez

 

The Street Is Waiting For the Night

The street is waiting for the night.
Everything is history and silence.
The trees against the sidewalk
slumber beneath the sky.

The sky is sad and violet,
an April sky, a pretty
violet sky, with soft
starlight preludes.

Through gated windows,
light comes from the houses.
A dog cries behind closed doors.
Black against an even sky,
a bat flutters by.

Ah! that yellow lamp,
peace of blind children,
nostalgia of widows,
presence of the dead.

The stories we told
on those April evenings
that will never return,
while we stared at the stars!

And the shadows are falling,
sweet and long, in peace,
among the distant rumors
of the little towns.

Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, ©