A TÚA GRACIA LEDA

 

Cando xa sexas vella

Cando xa sexas vella, e gris, e chea de sono
dormites xunto ao lume, colle este libro, e lendo
e aqulas fondas sombras que tiveron teus ollos.

de vagar, soña un pouco naquel ollar tan tenro

Como moitos amaron a túa gracia leda,
e esa beleza túa, de amor falso ou sentido,
mais un amou en ti operegrinos esprito,
e tódalas tristuras da túa face inqueda.

E sobre as barras roxas da lareira inclinada
marmura, un pouco triste, como o amor fuxira,
para irse a camiñar nos montes, alá enriba,
e nun mundo de estrelas esconder a súa cara.

When you are old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

W. B. Yeats

Fotografías de Kurt Hutton e Anne Brigman