“Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art”, by John Keats (1795-1921)

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

“¡Brillante estrella! Si fuera tan constante», de John Keats (1795-1921)

Brillante astro, si fuera tan constante
El esplendor prendido de tu noche,
Observando con párpados abiertos
La paciente naturaleza, insomne
/eremita
En oficio sagrado, corriente agua,
Va formando las costas tan humanas
/ de tierra,
Miro la suave máscara caída
De la nieve entre brezos y montañas.
Inmóvil astro, tan constante tú eres,
Mi viejo pecho duerme ya en tu pecho,
Tu caer blando sin final yo siento,
Atento siempre a la dulce inquietud,
paro, abrumado por tu tierno aliento,
Vivir siempre en un rapto de la muerte.