18
THE SUN

        I

There, at the back
of my library
the last sunrays mix
all colors in clear and divine light
while sweetly caressing my books.

        II

How clear its
company; how it widens
the room and fully transforms it
into valley, sky —¡Andalucía!—,
infancy, love!

        III

Like a child, a dog,
it moves from book to book,
doing as it wishes...
Suddenly, I look at it,
it stops, it stays with me
for a long time,
with a divine music,
a friendly bark,
a fresh babbling...

        and IV

Slowly it dies down...
That divine and pure light
becomes color again, all alone, all mine.
Now I feel the darkness
in my soul, as if it had just lost
its valley, its sky —¡Andalucía!—
its infancy, its love...