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.
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