Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Meira Delmar

SOLITUDE

There’s nothing like this bliss
of feeling so alone
in mid-afternoon
and in the middle of the wheat field;
under the summer sky
and in the arms of the wind
I am one more ear of wheat.

I have nothing in my soul,
not even a small sorrow,
nor an old remembrance
that would make me dream . . .
I only have this bliss
of being alone in the afternoon,
just with the afternoon!

A very long silence
is falling on the field,
for already the sun is leaving
and already the wind is leaving;
who would give me forever
this inexpressible bliss
of being, alone and serene,
a miracle of peace!

SOLEDAD

SOLEDAD

Nada igual a esta dicha
de sentirme tan sola
en mitad de la tarde
y en mitad del trigal;
bajo el cielo de estío
y en los brazos del viento
soy una espiga más.

Nada tengo en el alma
ni una pena pequeña
ni un recuerdo lejano
que me hiciera soñar . . . 
Solo tengo esta dicha
de estar sola en la tarde
¡con la tarde no más!

Un silencio muy largo
va cayendo en el trigo,
porque ya el sol se aleja
y ya el viento se va
¡quién me diera por siempre
esta dicha indecible
de ser, sola y serena,
un milagro de paz!
Close

SOLITUDE

There’s nothing like this bliss
of feeling so alone
in mid-afternoon
and in the middle of the wheat field;
under the summer sky
and in the arms of the wind
I am one more ear of wheat.

I have nothing in my soul,
not even a small sorrow,
nor an old remembrance
that would make me dream . . .
I only have this bliss
of being alone in the afternoon,
just with the afternoon!

A very long silence
is falling on the field,
for already the sun is leaving
and already the wind is leaving;
who would give me forever
this inexpressible bliss
of being, alone and serene,
a miracle of peace!

SOLITUDE

There’s nothing like this bliss
of feeling so alone
in mid-afternoon
and in the middle of the wheat field;
under the summer sky
and in the arms of the wind
I am one more ear of wheat.

I have nothing in my soul,
not even a small sorrow,
nor an old remembrance
that would make me dream . . .
I only have this bliss
of being alone in the afternoon,
just with the afternoon!

A very long silence
is falling on the field,
for already the sun is leaving
and already the wind is leaving;
who would give me forever
this inexpressible bliss
of being, alone and serene,
a miracle of peace!
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère