Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer’s “Because your eyes are green” (Rhyme XII)

Translation
Because
your eyes are green
like
the sea, my girl, you lament;
the
nymphs have green eyes,
Minerva’s
eyes were green,  
and
also green are the pupils
of
the Prophet’s virgins[1].
Green
is the dress and ornament
of
the forest in spring;
the
rainbow displays its brilliance
among
the seven colors,
and
emeralds too are green;
for
green is the color of hope
and
ocean waves
and
the poet’s laurels.
Your
cheek’s a youthful
rose
that’s covered in frost,
where
crimson petals
look
out from pearls.
And yet
I know that you
lament
because you
think
your eyes disfigure
it,
but think no more
of it.
Your
pupils seem
moist
and green and restless,
young
almond leaves
that
tremble with a breath of air.
Your
ruby mouth
is
a purple pomegranate that opens
in
summer to invite
a
quenching of the thirst with it.
And yet
I know that you
lament
because you
think
your eyes disfigure
it,
but think no more
of it.
Your
eyes, when angry,
seem
to flash
like
ocean waves that break
on
Cantabrian rocks.
Your
brow is crowned
in
golden braids, in curls loose,
a
snowy peak reflecting
the
final light of day.
And yet
I know that you
lament
because you
think
your eyes disfigure
it,
but think no more
of it.
Between
your blonde lashes
and
temples, they seem like
gold
and emerald brooches,
clasping
ermine white.
                        *
Because
your eyes are green
like
the sea, my girl, you lament;
but,
perhaps, if they turned
black
or blue, you would repent.
Original
Spanish
Porque
son, niña, tus ojos
verdes
como el mar, te quejas;
verdes
los tienen las náyades,
verdes
los tuvo Minerva,
y
verdes son las pupilas
de
las hourís del Profeta.
El
verde es gala y ornato
del
bosque en la primavera;
entre
sus siete colores
brillante
el Iris lo ostenta,
las
esmeraldas son verdes;
verde
el color del que espera,
y
las ondas del océano
y
el laurel de los poetas.
Es
tu mejilla temprana
rosa
de escarcha cubierta,
en
que el carmín de los pétalos
se
ve al través de las perlas.
Y sin embargo,
sé que te
quejas
porque tus ojos
crees que la
afean,
pues no lo
creas.
Que
parecen sus pupilas
húmedas,
verdes e inquietas,
tempranas
hojas de almendro
que
al soplo del aire tiemblan.
Es
tu boca de rubíes
purpúrea
granada abierta
que
en el estío convida
a
apagar la sed con ella,
Y sin embargo,
sé que te
quejas
porque tus ojos
crees que la
afean,
pues no lo
creas.
Que
parecen, si enojada
tus
pupilas centellean,
las
olas del mar que rompen
en
las cantábricas peñas.
Es
tu frente que corona,
crespo
el oro en ancha trenza,
nevada
cumbre en que el día
su
postrera luz refleja.
Y sin embargo,
sé que te
quejas
porque tus ojos
crees que la
afean:
pues no lo
creas.
Que
entre las rubias pestañas,
junto
a las sienes semejan
broches
de esmeralda y oro
que
un blanco armiño sujetan.
                        *
Porque
son, niña, tus ojos
verdes
como el mar te quejas;
quizás,
si negros o azules
se
tornasen, lo sintieras.




[1]  Hourís is
one of the beautiful virgins provided in paradise to all faithful Muslims.

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