In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

Jorge Guillén 363  Jorge Guillén (1893–1984) The Nymphs They seek, high and alone, that brilliance of a sun which would prefer them pure. And, glory, the level garden will elevate the new perfection of its morning. Now the heights are heavens, populous with light, without edge or penumbra. The splendor springs again as though a form akin to its own hope in-dwelling. Further: the flesh, in greater reality, ascends thus naked, unto fortune. Time unto Time, or The Garden All the garden is offered to the glance. A casual lord who reigns, who so admires, I stare, and from the palace I prevail. If gifts from the largess of nature flow, Only the slope of this ravine defies, Changeless, such austerity of beauty. By certain boxwood trees that tempt the touch, Two fountains as a pair of myths direct The garden and my soul, who know each other. 364 Spanish And there, among their lean extremities, Sight dwindles through those grovèd poplar trees Amenable to rustle and to thought. Below, always the water of the pool Saves us a few skies that approximate Their adventures in that interior. Murmurs that from the leaves approach, murmurs Make passage by me like the lights of seasons Receding for the moment—where I abide. It is the garden lifts and honors me Above his height, above the tangible Centuries here saved contemporary. Between the flower, exact in its return, And the flat turf continually growing, Now more a friend, what has been is gathered in. Here beside this infancy of a stream The perpetual succession of the instant Gathers and merges, presides over me. Here the years compass time; the fountain is Divinity: this water has no end. Through the grove shivers a profounder sun. W. S. Merwin, 1954 ...


Additional Information

Related ISBN
MARC Record
Launched on MUSE
Open Access
Back To Top

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Without cookies your experience may not be seamless.