To Daphne, fleeing from Apollo
"An alchemist is running after you,
Daphne, he's called the Sun, and you're so rude?
Without a doubt you're acting like a bat,
since Sun and light you so swiftly elude.
He plans to have you, as I understand it,
if he can catch you in this forest dark:
his quiver's noisy, but his purse is voiceless;
the dog must be near death, since it won't bark.
A hawker of the signs and of the planets,
he's making funny faces, gesturing,
all laden down with steamy days and comets."
This I said; and to stiff laurel bark
she grafted herself on, to flee his wiles,
and the Sun, pickled, was left in the dark.
Translated by Alix Ingber
#EscritoresEspañoles (1648) El Parnaso español
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Conoce la diligencia con que se acerca la muerte, y procura conocer también la conveniencia de su venida, y aprovecharse de ese conocimiento
Ya formidable y espantoso suena, Dentro del corazón el postrer día; Y la última hora, negra y fría, Se acerca de temor y sombras llena… Si agradable descanso, paz serena
