To Margarita Debayle
Margarita, the sea lies fair,
And from the bowers
The winds bring a subtle scent
Of orange flowers.
In my soul a lark is singing—
Your voice, my dear!
I am going to tell you a story.
Sit down and hear!
There once was a mighty monarch,
With a palace of diamonds bright,
And elephants in a stately troop,
And a tent that was made of light,
And a tower of malachite costly,
And a mantle of gorgeous hue,
And a fair little, sweet little princess,
As pretty, my darling, as you.
One evening the princess, gazing,
Saw a star in the heaven's afar.
She was mischievous, surely, the princess—
She wanted to gather that star.
To adorn for her bosom a breastpin
She wished it, the dear little girl,
Along with the verse of a poet,
A feather, a flower and a pearl.
It seems dainty princesses, darling,
Are much as you are today,
For lilies they pick, and roses,
And stars. They are made that way!
So she went, the lovely princess,
O'er the sea, and under the sky,
To cut the white star that she longed for
From the vault of the heavens on high.
She went up by the moon, and farther,
On that beautiful summer eve;
But the bad thing was that she went away
Without asking her father's leave.
And when she came back from the Lord's fair park
In the heaven's azure height,
She was seen all wrapt in a glory soft,
In a splendor sweet and bright.
And the king said: "What were you doing?
I have looked for you everywhere.
And what is that on your bosom
That burns with a light so fair?"
The princess told no falsehood;
She gave him an answer true.
"I went to gather my star," she said,
"From the heavens vast and blue."
The king cried, "Oh, what madness!
What a fancy strange and wild!
I told you no one must touch the sky.
The Lord will be angry, child!"
"I meant no harm," she answered;
"I went, I don't know why
Across the waves, in the blowing wind,
And I cut the star from the sky."
Said her father, "You must be punished.
Go back to the sky once more,
For what you stole from the shining heights
To its place you must restore."
The princess grew pale and mournful
For her lovely flower of light;
But then kind Jesus appeared to them—
His smile it was sweet and bright.
"In my country's fields up yonder
I gave her that rose," said he.
"My flowers belong to the little girls
Who think and who dream of me."
The king donned glittering garments,
And there by the shore he made
Four hundred elephants tall and grave
March past in a grand parade.
And the princess is fair to look on,
With her breatpin, the happy girl;
For it shines with the star, with a poet's verse,
With a feather, a flower and a pearl!
Margarita, the sea lies fair;
The breezes clear
Waft orange blossoms' fragrance—
Your breath, my dear!
Ere long you will be far distant,
But keep, little girl, I pray,
A kindly thought of the friend who tried
To tell you a tale one day!
20 de marzo de 1908, Poema del otoño y otros poemas (1910)
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