Your eyes. Gonçalves Dias

Your eyes, so black, so beautiful, so pure. With a vivid glow. Uncertain stars, which the sleeping waters of the sea will wound. Your eyes, so black, so beautiful, so pure, Have a gentle expression, Sweeter than the breeze, — sweeter than the sailor. Singing at night, — sweeter than the flute. Breaking the solitude, Your eyes, so black, so beautiful, so pure, With a lively glow, Are gentle, childlike, kind, funny. Playing with smiles. They are gentle infants, playing, jumping, like a childhood game, Restless, mischievous; — causing torment, With kisses they repay us for the pain of a moment, With gentleness. Your eyes, so black, so beautiful, so pure, That's how they are; Sometimes shining, serene, tranquil, Sometimes a volcano! Sometimes, oh! yes, they shed fragilely, A gentle glow, That to me seems to drain the air from them, And the eyes so gentle, moist with tears. They make me cry, like a child sleeping peacefully, Wakes up crying; And silent and severe, thinking a thousand things, Does not think, thinking. In the souls of pure virgins and children, Or sometimes from heaven. A sweet harmony emanates as from a celestial harp, A vague desire; and the mind is clothed In tears covered by a veil. Whether they are memories, or desires For a better homeland; I love your eyes that weep without cause. A weeping without pain. I love your eyes so black, so pure, Of living radiance; Your eyes that express such sweet harmony, That speak of love with such poetry, With such caution. Your eyes so black, so beautiful, so pure, That's how they are; I love these eyes that speak of love. With such passion.