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The Hospital

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Tarde en El Hospital
by Carlos Pezoa Véliz

Sobre el campo el agua mustia
cae fina, grácil, leve;
con el agua cae angustia:
  llueve

Y pues solo en amplia pieza,
yazgo en cama, yazgo enfermo,
para espantar la tristeza,
  duermo.

Pero el agua ha lloriqueado
junto a mí, cansada, leve;
despierto sobresaltado:
  llueve

Entonces, muerto de angustia
ante el panorama inmenso,
mientras cae el agua mustia,
  pienso.

The Hospital, One Afternoon

Athwart the fields the drops are falling,
Softly, gently, on the plains;
And through the drops a grief is calling, —
It rains.

Alone amid my sick-ward spacious
Where I my bed of weakness keep,
There's naught to fight my grief voracious,
But sleep.

But mists are gathering around me
With choking hold upon my veins;
I wake from out the sleep that bound me —
It rains.

Then, as if in my final anguish,
Before the landscape's mighty brink,
Amid the mists that fall and languish,
I think.

translated by Thomas Walsh
Hispanic Anthology (1920) 

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