“Ayes del Destierro” by St. Therese of Avila (in Spanish)

Santa Teresa de Ávila

¡Cuán triste es, Dios mío,

la vida sin ti!

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

Carrera muy larga

es la de este suelo,

morada penosa,

muy duro destierro.

¡Oh sueño adorado!

sácame de aquí!

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

Lúgubre es la vida,

amarga en extremo;

que no vive el alma

que está de ti lejos.

¡Oh dulce bien mío,

que soy infeliz!

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

¡Oh muerte benigna,

socorre mis penas!

Tus golpes son dulces,

que el alma libertan.

¡Qué dicha, oh mi Amado,

estar junto a Ti!

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

El amor mundano

apega a esta vida;

el amor divino

por la otra suspira.

Sin ti, Dios eterno,

¿quién puede vivir?

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

La vida terrena

es continuo duelo:

vida verdadera

la hay sólo en el cielo.

Permite, Dios mío,

que viva yo allí.

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

¿Quién es el que teme

la muerte del cuerpo,

si con ella logra

un placer inmenso?

¡Oh! sí, el de amarte,

Dios mío, sin fin.

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

Mi alma afligida

gime y desfallece.

¡Ay! ¿quién de su amado

puede estar ausente?

Acabe ya, acabe

aqueste sufrir.

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

El barbo cogido

en doloso anzuelo

encuentra en la muerte

el fin del tormento.

¡Ay!, también yo sufro,

bien mío, sin ti,

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

En vano mi alma

te busca oh mi dueño;

Tú, siempre invisible,

no alivias su anhelo.

¡Ay! esto la inflama,

hasta prorrumpir:

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

¡Ay!, cuando te dignas

Entrar en mi pecho,

Dios mío, al instante

el perderte temo.

Tal pena me aflige

y me hace decir:

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

Haz, Señor, que acabe

tan larga agonía;

socorre a tu sierva

que por ti suspira.

Rompe aquestos hierros

y sea feliz.

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

Mas no, dueño amado,

que es justo padezca;

que expíe mis yerros,

mis culpas inmensas.

¡Ay!, logren mis lágrimas

te dignes oír:

Ansiosa de verte,

deseo morir.

"Cinderella" by Will Eisner (in English)

from The Spirit Section - The Chicago Sunday
(5.10.1947)

“The Ass and His Purchaser” by Aesop (in English)

     A man wished to purchase an Ass, and agreed with its owner that he should try out the animal before he bought him. He took the Ass home and put him in the straw-yard with his other Asses, upon which the new animal left all the others and at once joined the one that was most idle and the greatest eater of them all. Seeing this, the man put a halter on him and led him back to his owner. On being asked how, in so short a time, he could have made a trial of him, he answered, "I do not need a trial; I know that he will be just the same as the one he chose for his companion." 

            A man is known by the company he keeps.

“Rimas” by Raimundo Correia (in Portuguese)

Rondo pela noite

Imaginando mil coisas

Meditando sozinho

Até a madrugada

Isto tudo é tão contrário

Medo e coragem

Amor e ódio

Revolta e compreensão

Mas nada rima nesse mundo

Apenas eu e você restávamos

Resto do que o mundo já foi

Intensamente, imensamente, eternamente

Até mesmo nós sucumbimos

Reavaliamos nossa condição

Indiferentes, deixamos de rimar

Menos um casal no mundo

Agora ando sozinho

Meditando noite adentro

Imaginando e esquecendo mil e uma coisas

Rondando até a madrugada

“Máquina Breve” by Cecília Meireles (in Portuguese)

O pequeno vaga-lume

com sua verde lanterna,

que passava pela sombra

inquietando a flor e a treva

— meteoro da noite, humilde,

dos horizontes da relva;

o pequeno vaga-lume,

queimada a sua lanterna,

jaz carbonizado e triste e

qualquer brisa o carrega:

mortalha de exíguas franjas

que foi seu corpo de festa.

Parecia uma esmeralda

e é um ponto negro na pedra.

Foi luz alada, pequena

estrela em rápida seta.

Quebrou-se a máquina breve

na precipitada queda.

E o maior sábio do mundo

sabe que não a conserta.

“Ava Maria Plena Gratia” by Oscar Wilde (in English)

Was this His coming! I had hoped to see

A scene of wondrous glory, as was told

Of some great God who in a rain of gold

Broke open bars and fell on Danae:

Or a dread vision as when Semele

Sickening for love and unappeased desire

Prayed to see God's clear body, and the fire

Caught her white limbs and slew her utterly:

With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,

And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand

Before this supreme mystery of Love:

A kneeling girl with passionless pale face,

An angel with a lily in his hand,

And over both with outstretched wings the Dove.

“In Memoriam: Francis Archibald Douglas” by Lord Alfred Douglas (in English)

Dear friend, dear brother, I have owed you this

Since many days, the tribute of a song.

Shall I cheat you who never did a wrong

To any man ? No, therefore though I miss

All art, all skill, in this short armistice

From my soul's war against the bitter throng

Of present woes, let these poor lines be strong

In love enough to bear a brother's kiss.

Dear saint, true knight, I cannot weep for you,

Nor if I could would I call back the breath

To your dear body ; God is very wise,

All that this year had in its womb He knew,

And, loving you, He sent His Son like Death,

To put His hand over your kind gray eyes.