Rimas Lxviii

No se lo que he sonado En la noche pasada; Triste, muy triste debio ser el sueno, Pues despierto la angustia me duraba. Note, al incorporarme, Humeda la almohada, Y por primera vez senti, al notarlo, De un amargo placer henchirse el alma. Triste cosa es el sueno Que llanto nos arranca; Mas tengo en mi tristeza una alegria... iSe que aun me quedan lagrimas! I wept while I was dreaming That thou didst buried lie; I woke, and with my weeping My cheeks were not yet dry. I wept while I was dreaming That thou hadst gone from me; I woke, and still kept weeping Full long and bitterly. I wept while I was dreaming That thou didst love me well; I woke, and--woe is me, love-- My tears are flowing still.