Felicia

There in the secluded caste
where the foams sing
the mystery of the mists
and the secrets of the sea,
I watched the whims of the waves
undulating of the waves
crying my sorrow alone:
my consolation was watching.

Since then on my forehead
like an unfathomable enigma
I bear the patent stigma
of this infinite sorrow.
Since then in my eyes
is the engraved shadow
of my desolate afternoon:
in my eyes is the sea.

I will never again have those
soft tints of my dawn
though perhaps all its light
all its light in my eyes.
I will never see my beaches
nor will I inhale from the hills
the voluptuous aromas
of my Uruguayan flowers.