Saint John of the Cross (San Juan de la Cruz)
Translated by Sister Marjorie Flower OCD
Two poems by the 16th century Spanish mystic and doctor of the Church, read in English and in the original Spanish.
The Dark Night of the Soul (Noche oscura del alma)
| En una noche oscura con ansias en amores inflamada ¡oh dichosa ventura! salí sin ser notada estando ya mi casa sosegada; | So dark the night! At rest and hushed my house, I went with no one knowing upon a lover’s quest –Ah, the sheer grace!–so blest, | |
| a escuras, y segura por la secreta escala disfrazada ¡oh dichosa ventura! a escuras y en celada estando ya mi casa sosegada. | In darkness, hid from sight I went by secret ladder safe and sure –Ah, grace of sheer delight!– so softly veiled by night hushed now my house, in darkness and secure. | |
| En la noche dichosa en secreto que nadie me veía ni yo miraba cosa, sin otra luz ni guía sino la que en el corazón ardía. | Hidden in that glad night, regarding nothing as I stole away, no-one to see my flight, no other guide or light save one that in my heart burned bright as day. | |
| Aquésta me guiaba más cierto que la luz del mediodía adonde me esperaba quien yo bien me sabía en parte donde nadie parecía. | Surer than noonday sun, guiding me from the start this radiant light led me to that dear One, waiting for me, well-known, somewhere apart where no-one came in sight. | |
| ¡Oh noche que guiaste!, ¡Oh noche amable más que el alborada!, ¡Oh noche que juntaste Amado con amada, amada en el Amado transformada! | Dark of the night, my guide, fairer by far than dawn when stars grow dim! Night that has unified the Lover and the Bride, transforming the Beloved into him. | |
| En mi pecho florido que entero para él solo se guardaba, allí quedó dormido y yo le regalaba y el ventalle de cedros aire daba. | There on my flowered breast that none but he might ever own or keep, he stayed, sinking to rest, and softly I caressed my Love while cedars gently fanned his sleep. | |
| El aire de la almena cuando yo sus cabellos esparcía con su mano serena en mi cuello hería y todos mis sentidos suspendía. | Breeze from the turret blew ruffling his hair. Then with his tranquil hand wounding my neck, I knew nothing: my senses flew at touch of peace too deep to understand. | |
| Quedéme y olvidéme, el rostro recliné sobre el amado, cesó todo, y dejéme, dejando mi cuidado entre las azucenas olvidado. | Forgetting all, my quest ended, I stayed lost to myself at last. All ceased: my face was pressed upon my Love, at rest, with all my cares among the lilies cast. |
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The Living Flame of Love (La llama de amor viva)
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Click here to display the text| ¡Oh llama de amor viva que tiernamente hieres de mi alma en el más profundo centro, pues ya no eres esquiva, acaba ya si quieres; rompe la tela deste dulce encuentro! | Flame, living flame, compelling, yet tender past all telling, reaching the secret centre of my soul! Since now evasion’s over, finish your work, my Lover, break the last thread, wound me and make me whole! | |
| ¡Oh cauterio süave! ¡Oh regalada llaga! ¡Oh mano blanda! ¡Oh toque delicado que a vida eterna sabe y toda deuda paga; matando, muerte en vida la has trocado! | Burn that is for my healing! Wound of delight past feeling! Ah, gentle hand whose touch is a caress, foretaste of heaven conveying and every debt repaying: killing, you give me life for death’s distress. | |
| ¡Oh lámparas de fuego en cuyos resplandores las profundas cavernas del sentido, que estaba oscuro y ciego, con extraños primores color y luz dan junto a su querido! | O lamps of fire bright-burning with splendid brilliance, turning deep caverns of my soul to pools of light! Once shadowed, dim, unknowing, now their strange new-found glowing gives warmth and radiance for my Love’s delight. | |
| ¡Cuán manso y amoroso recuerdas en mi seno donde secretamente solo moras y en tu aspirar sabroso de bien y gloria lleno cuán delicadamente me enamoras! | Ah, gentle and so loving you wake within me, proving that you are there in secret and alone; your fragrant breathing stills me, your grace, your glory fills me so tenderly your love becomes my own. |
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Read for the Matheson Trust by Judith Pena and Guy Ogilvy.
This library item is part of our Mystical Poetry Collection.
