"Reason of tears" by Luis Cernuda

The night, because of her sadness, lacks of boundaries.
Her shadow in rebellion as the foam,
Breaking weak walls
Ashamed of whiteness;
Night can not be anything but night.

Perhaps the lovers will stab stars,
Maybe the adventure turns off the sorrow.
But you, night, driven by desires,
till the paleness of water,
Forever you stand waiting for who knows what nightingales.    

Beyond, the abysses tremble
Villages of snakes between feather
Header of sick
Not looking at anything but the night
While closing the air between the lips.

The night, the dazzling night, 
that along the corners twist her hips,
Waiting, who knows,
Like me, like everyone else.