Page:Darío - Eleven Poems.djvu/49



all my days of troubled loneliness And fretted grief Cervantes is to me A faithful friend, and none so true as he, That brings me precious gifts of quietness.

All nature his, and life. Of his largesse My dreams, that are knight-errants bold and free, Have golden casques to crown them gloriously. He is, for me: sigh, prayer, joyousness.

He speaks as runs a brook, so amorous And very gentle is this Christian knight, Even undaunted. And I love him thus,

Beholding how the world, by fate's design, Reaps, from his deathless sorrow, rich delight, And laughter from a madness so divine!

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