Unto the star that now appears,
So far indeed the transit;
Its light would take a thousand years
To reach our vision’s orbit.
And haply, on its azure way
Through endless Space eternal,
Yon sphere hath died, or e’er its ray
Had reached our eye’s discernal.
Of perished stars the visions bright,
In heaven still soar ascendant;
There were, ere yet we saw their light;
Now dead, it shines resplendent.
And so it is when Love’s desire,
In depths of night hath perished;
The quenchèd love still shows its fire;
Still follows that it cherished.
Tradusa in engleza de Sylvya Pankhurst
To the Star
[English version by Corneliu M. Popescu]
So far it is athwart the blue
To where yon star appears,
That for its light to reach our view
Has needed thousand years.
Maybe that ages gone it shed
Its glow, then languished in the skies,
Yet only now its rays have sped
Their journey to our eyes.
The icon of the star that died
Slowly the vault ascended;
Time was ere it could first be spied,
We see now what is ended.
So it is when our love’s aspire
Is hid beneath night’s bowl,
The gleam of its extinguished fire
Enkindles yet our soul.
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