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Nochebuena
Al callar la orquesta, pasean veladas
sombras femeninas bajo los ramajes,
por cuya hojarasca se filtran heladas
quimeras de luna, pálidos celajes.
Hay labios que lloran arias olvidadas
grandes lirios fingen los ebúrneos trajes.
Charlas y sonrisas en locas bandadas
perfuman de seda los rudos boscajes.
Espero que ría la luz de tu vuelta;
y la epifanía de tu forma esbelta,
cantará la fiesta en oro mayor.
Balarán mis versos en tu predio entonces,
canturreando en todos sus místicos bronces
que ha nacido el niño Jesús de tu amor.
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Christmas Eve
As the orchestra stops playing, veiled
feminine shadows stroll beneath the branches
through whose dead leaves are filtered
icy chimeras of the moon, pale clouds.
Here are lips that weep forgotten arias,
ivory gowns that pretend to be great lilies.
Chatter and smiles in wild flocks
perfume the rude thickets with silk.
I hope you laugh in the light of your turn;
and the epiphany of your form, graceful and slender,
will sing the fiesta in the key of gold major.
My verses will bleat in your meadow then,
humming with all their mystical bronze
that the child-Jesus of your love has been born.
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