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Morning, clear morning!
If I could be your lover.

Along your shore, step by step,
I'll be the one who loves you more.

My word is drawn hastening
Toward all your loveliness.

Down our path we walk.
Let me understand the way you speak.

That such delicate beauty can hover
Next to the blade of the abyss!

The scent of the true world
Comes from the blue-petaled rosemary.

Is the mallow the mistress
Of such a stony retreat?

The cricket sings without stopping.
Such patience! I humble myself before him.

And the bee leaves such delight
To the blossom he bores in!

He dives in, he does not
Give up, despite the heat of mining for gold.

The cricket speeds up his song.
Can there be more of spring?

Who loses this, is himself lost.
But this green field is surely meant for me!

Heavens whose great size
The eye cannot seize—you are conquered by love.

Do I not deserve such a morning?
Of itself, my heart wins this prize.

Clarity, highest power:
My soul will be perfected here.


Jorge Guillén
Translated by Reginald Gibbons

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