IN THE NIGHT

by: Joaquín Arcadio Pagaza (1839-1918)

T seems like noon, so bright the lustre shed

On the damp forest by the moon's white glow.

The breeze scarce moves yon oak tree to and fro,

That mid a thousand others rears its head.

 

O'er Zempoala, on an azure bed,

The evening star rests just above the snow,

And dimly in the fields the brooklet's flow

Shows like a silver ribbon far outspread.

 

The heavens shine; the hoophoe's note of pain

Sounds on the mountain, and the echoes send

Its wail across the broad plains plaintively.

Phyllis, come follow me, for I would fain

Enjoy this night; shut up the cot, my friend;

Upon the hillside I will wait for thee.

--Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell

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