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Carlos Pezoa Véliz
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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.
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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(1879-1908)
Carlos Pezoa Véliz was a native of
Santiago de Chile. He devoted his short life to periodical literature. His works, collected after his death, were published by his friends under the title
Carlos Pezoa Véliz, Poesias liricas (Santiago, Valparaiso, 1912).