Those who auscultasteis the heart of the night,
which by the tenacious insomnia have heard
the closing of a door, the sound of a car
far, an echo vague, a slight noise…
In the moments of mysterious silence,
when they emerge from their prison forgotten,
at the time of the dead, at the time of rest,
Read these verses will know impregnated bittering!
As in a glass pour on them my sorrows
of distant memories and dire misfortunes,
and the sad longings of my soul, drunk with flowers,
and mourning of my heart, Sad holiday.
And despite not being what I had been,
and the loss of the kingdom that was for me,
thinking a moment I could not have been born,
And the dream is my life since I was born!
All this comes amid the deep silence
when night envelops the earthly illusion,
and I feel like an echo of the heart of the world
that penetrates and touches my own heart.
Songs of life and hope (1905)