On the Death of the Most Excellent Lady
by Sister Juana Inés of the Cross
Let them die with you, Laura, since you died:
the affections which so hopelessly have wanted
you, the eyes from which you deprive the sight
of the lovely light that at one time you granted.
My hapless lyre, which you inspired, let die;
let echoes (with what regret they call to you!)
be heard until these ill-formed marks are dry,
the black tears that my pen in misery drew.
Let that same Death himself be moved to pity,
unable, by his law, to pardon you.
Lamenting his bitter luck, let Love admit he
was eager, as before, to please you, and knew
he needed eyes to have the power to see
your face; now weeping is all that they may do.
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Edits:
S2L1: Let my hapless lyre, which you inspired, die; > My hapless lyre, which you inspired, let die;
S3L3: And let Love, with his bitter luck, admit me > Let Love lament his bitter luck and admit he > Lamenting his bitter luck, let Love admit he
S4L1: is eager, as before, for pleasure, to > was eager, as before to please you, and knew
S4L2: have eyes in order to be able to see > he needed eyes to have the power to see
Original Spanish (from Poem Hunter)
A la muerte de la Excelentísima Señora
Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
Mueran contigo, Laura, pues moriste,
los afectos que en vano te desean,
los ojos a quien privas de que vean
hermosa luz que a un tiempo concediste.
Muera mi lira infausta en que influiste
ecos, que lamentables te vocean,
y hasta estos rasgos mal formados sean
lágrimas negras de mi pluma triste.
Muévase a compasión la misma muerte
que, precisa, no pudo perdonarte;
y lamente el amor su amarga suerte,
pues si antes, ambicioso de gozarte,
deseó tener ojos para verte,
ya le sirvieran sólo de llorarte.
Crib:
On the Death of the Most Excellent Lady
by Sister Juana Inés of the Cross
Let them die with you, Laura, well, you died,
the affections which in vain desire you,
the eyes, whom you deprive of seeing
the beautiful light that you granted at one time.
Let my unfortunate lyre, in which you inspired echoes, die,
what regrettable things call to you,
even until these badly formed traits/characters may come to be,
black tears from my sad pen.
Let the same death be moved to compassion
who, meticulous, was not able to pardon you;
and let love lament his bitter lot,
well, if before, ambitious to please you,
he desired to have eyes in order to see you,
now they serve him only to weep for you.
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Correction:
S4L1: well, if before, ambitious to enjoy himself, > well, if before, ambitious to please you,