Poems of Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, VII
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Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
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In the dark corner of the drawing-room,
Forgotten by its mistress long ago,
Silent, cover’d with dust there in the gloom
The old harp lies.
How many notes slept in those strings half-dead
And waited for her fingers, white as snow.
To wake them into throbbing life, that fled
Away in sighs!
Ah me! thought I, how oft sleeps genius thus
Deep in the soul, hoping eternally
A voice will say, as He to Lazarus,
“Arise and walk.”—Ah me!
Bu metin şairin özgün dilinde (İspanyolca) değil, bir çeviridir.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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