Luis Cernuda (born Luis Cernuda Bidón) (1902 – 1963)
So that the gods might be propitious to youYou have given the more than a garland,Rosemary, myrtle and marjoram,Woven to honour them in the springtime.But, when the winter comes, where thenWill your hand be able to find the verdure,Yours eyes a light that is free from shadowsYour love its form in a youthful body?This poverty is pleasing to the heavens:Leave then as an offering to the gods,Like a live grain that is sown at seed time,The nakedness of your desire.
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