THE DRENKA WILLEN PRIZE FOR POETRY IN TRANSLATION

IN THE QUIET DEPTHS OF THE NIGHT
by José Asunción Silva
translated from the Spanish by David Francis

From time to time in the quiet depths of the night,
Your pale fingers flutter over the piano,
Like a butterfly’s wings over a lilac,
And unearth notes from the resonant keys,
Moonbeams filter through the window,
Crossing the black shadow of my room
And trace white lines on the carpet,
And on the music’s wings, my thoughts
Fly to distant places, crossing oceans,
To a Gothic castle where ivy climbs
Over mossy stones centuries old,
Where, propped on our elbows at your window,
We watch the day pass into shadows
And shaded night rises from the valleys,
And I am your blond servant-boy, my Spanish lady.
And when night closes in,
The fire in your room gilds your furnishings,
And we look at one another and smile
As the wind outside sighs and weeps.

Oh, how you spread your wings, vain dreams,
When your fingers flutter over the piano keys.

BUTTERFLIES
by José Asunción Silva
translated from the Spanish by David Francis

In your room you keep
a fragile display case
with pinned butterflies
which, if a radiant
ray of sun touches them,
turn to mother-of-pearl
or pieces of sky,
evening skies,
or a soft wing’s
opalescent twinkling;
and there you have the blue
daughters of the air,
fixed, now, forever,
the agile wings,
wings, traveling
from distant valleys
and, like your
loving soul’s desires,
they seem at daybreak
to return to life
when you pull back the shades
from your windows
and the sun hits your eyes
and the crystals.