RIMA LIV
As we remember the past and recall
those fleeting hours,
a teardrop shines on her black eyelashes
and it trembles, about to slide down.
Then, it finally slides and falls like a drop
of dew, as we realize
that we both feel a longing, today for yesterday,
and tomorrow for today.
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
English Translation by Armand F. Baker