SUMS WITH A PARTICULAR FOCUS
¿Qué más que el heno a la mañana verde,
Seco a la tarde?
The years, these years that I drag after me
Change from six to seven: seventy now.
Am I these sums, are they the impedimenta
That I must haul? Some destiny of the stars?
Bit by bit it darkens in this cloister
Where silence bit by bit increases;
An ashen light is throbbing in the dimness
And glowing through transparent alabaster.
Twilight is noble when it is serene.
Reflection aids me, at this perilous point,
When I can sense that all the stakes are lost.
Memory restores the thought of that green hay,
Dry at day's end. Inevitable shadow
Must helplessly advance now at my side.
Translated by Reginald Gibbons
1 Epístola moral a Fabio. Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola.