Rimas Lxviii Poem by Gustavo Adolfo Becquer

No se lo que he sonado
En la noche pasada;
Triste, muy triste debio ser el sueno,
Pues despierto la angustia me duraba.

Note, al incorporarme,
Humeda la almohada,
Y por primera vez senti, al notarlo,
De un amargo placer henchirse el alma.

Triste cosa es el sueno
Que llanto nos arranca;
Mas tengo en mi tristeza una alegria...
iSe que aun me quedan lagrimas!

I wept while I was dreaming
That thou didst buried lie;
I woke, and with my weeping
My cheeks were not yet dry.

I wept while I was dreaming
That thou hadst gone from me;
I woke, and still kept weeping
Full long and bitterly.

I wept while I was dreaming
That thou didst love me well;
I woke, and--woe is me, love--
My tears are flowing still.