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NABOKOV SE CONSIGUIÓ UNA BELLA MUJER CON ESTE VERSO. ES EL AUTOR DE LOLITA
Longing, and mystery, and delight…as if from the swaying blackness
of some slow-motion masquerade
onto the dim bridge you came.
And night flowed, and silent there floated
into its satin streams
that black mask’s wolf-like profile
and those tender lips of yours.
into its satin streams
that black mask’s wolf-like profile
and those tender lips of yours.
And under the chestnuts, along the canal
you passed, luring me askance.
What did my heart discern in you,
how did you move me so?
you passed, luring me askance.
What did my heart discern in you,
how did you move me so?
In your momentary tenderness,
or in the changing contour of your shoulders,
did I experience a dim sketch
of other — irrevocable — encounters?
or in the changing contour of your shoulders,
did I experience a dim sketch
of other — irrevocable — encounters?
Perhaps romantic pity
led you to understand
what had set trembling that arrow
now piercing through my verse?
led you to understand
what had set trembling that arrow
now piercing through my verse?
I know nothing. Strangely
the verse vibrates, and in it, an arrow…
Perhaps you, still nameless, were
the genuine, the awaited one?
the verse vibrates, and in it, an arrow…
Perhaps you, still nameless, were
the genuine, the awaited one?
But sorrow not yet quite cried out
perturbed our starry hour.
Into the night returned the double fissure
of your eyes, eyes not yet illumed.
perturbed our starry hour.
Into the night returned the double fissure
of your eyes, eyes not yet illumed.
For long? For ever? Far off
I wander, and strain to hear
the movement of the stars above our encounter
and what if you are to be my fate…
I wander, and strain to hear
the movement of the stars above our encounter
and what if you are to be my fate…
Longing, and mystery, and delight,
and like a distant supplication….
My heart must travel on.
But if you are to be my fate…
and like a distant supplication….
My heart must travel on.
But if you are to be my fate…
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