THE GOD SLEEPS

The god sleeps in his glory under your protection, Julieta;
A spear of love blushes in your arm;
His berceuse was white, your berceuse is purple …
You were a rose in his bed, you are a lily on his grave.

—The serpents of the world, pointed, spy upon
The suspecting celestial doves in your flesh. —

The god sleeps, Julieta; his pillow is made of stars
Polished by your hand, and your shadow is his robe;
The sleepless watch of your star-gazing
In the night, sole rival of your charm.

—And the beautiful serpents, inflamed, meditate
On the soft doves that sleep upon your body.—

And the god will awake, no one knows what day,
No one dreams in what land of glorification.
If he fell asleep crying, may he smile upon awakening …
In the moon-white vase of your melancholy
Rescue, like a pink diamond, your heart.

And rescue him from everything upon your heart!