Leopoldo Lugones, from “El Libro de los Paisajes”

Verano

Vuelve con la canículas eternas.
El azul de la aurora a ser ventura.
Las noches mecen en su astral hondura.
Un húmedo silencio de cisternas.

Domestica la tarde ovejas tiernas.
El arrullo se intima en la espesura.
La falda clara gentilmente augura
Una pulgada más de lindas piernas…

En próvida sazón de resolana,
El sol hace negrear la uva pagana.
Echa una rosa campesina al cesto

De la pastora, y con amor de artista,
En la barba del viejo pone un gesto


September

Summer survives undead.
Karmic blue skies spin dawn.
Nights stumble stellar depths.
Silent noons burn.

A roadkill pigeon dead.
Traffic stutters, slows down.
Strolling swaying skirts daze;
drivers’ eyes burn.

Burn in her season of bounteous sun.
Burn through the vineyards and blacken the streets.
Pluck her pink rose.

Pulling his rope-
black beard, his deathless boundless smile
blissfully shepherds her spark. Blessed satyr.

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