[Glenn Wright]

Version 2

To the Sick Child
by Miguel de Unamuno

Sleep, little children,
the crocodile will huff
and puff to steal the children
who do not sleep enough.
—Popular song

Slumber, flower of my life,
     in calm perfection,
dreaming is, for suffering,
     your one protection.

Slumber, my poorest baby,
     enjoy without grief
that which Death will offer you
     as pledge of relief.

As a comfort and token
     of your preciousness
that you may know, my poor child,
     her tender fondness.

Soon she will come with longing,
     gathering your last breath,
she who loves you so sweetly,
     the angel of death.

You will sleep eternal sleep
     in her loving arms,
and for you, my dearest child,
     no more frosty harms.

Nevermore will winter’s snow,
     my severed flower, be;
she’ll sing to you in silence
     the sweetest melody.

Oh, what a sorrowful smile
     dimples your sweet face . . .
perhaps her finger touches
     your heart with God’s grace.

Oh, what a downhearted smile
     makes your soft lips purse,
what do you say while dreaming
     to the angelic nurse?

Your saintly, immortal nurse,
     in holy peace, goes
to the land where all may find
     heavenly repose.

When the Sun lifts up his head
     my poor little star,
having melted into dawn
     with her you’ll go far.

You will die with light of dawn,
     death’s blossom, you wait,
wretched life rejecting you—
     What a lovely fate!

Sleep the dream that never ends,
     in calm perfection;
Death is, for your suffering,
     your one protection.


Version 1

To the Sick Child
by Miguel de Unamuno

Sleep, little child;
the crocodile comes in a huff
to carry off the children
who do not sleep enough.
—Popular Song

Sleep, flower of my life,
     sleep in calm perfection;
for dreaming is, for suffering,
     your only true protection.

Sleep my poorest child,
     enjoy it without grief;
that which Death will offer you
     as a token of relief.

As a comfort and a token
     of your preciousness to me
you may know, my poor child,
     that she loves you abundantly.

Soon she will come with longing
     to gather your final breath,
she who loves you so much,
     the angel of sweet Death.

You will sleep an eternal sleep
     embraced in her loving arms
and for you, my dearest child,
     will be no more frosty harms.

No more winter or snow,
     my cut flower, will there be;
she will sing to you in silence
     the sweetest melody.

Oh, what a rueful smile
     dimples your little face . . .
perhaps her finger touches
     your heart with holy grace.

Oh, what a mournful smile
     causes your lips to purse;
what do you say in your dreaming
     to your angelic nurse?

Your immortal nurse,
     always saintly, goes
to the Land where all in holy peace
     find heavenly repose.

When the Sun will rise
     my poorest little star;
having melted into the dawn
     with her you’ll travel far.

You will die with the dawn,
     flower of death, as you wait,
wretched life rejects you.
     What a lovely fate!

Sleep the dream that never ends,
     sleep in calm perfection;
for death is, for your suffering,
     the only true protection.


Original Spanish Text
from Unamuno, Miguel de. Poesías. Bilbao: José Rojas, 1907, pp133-135.

Al Niño Enfermo
de Miguel de Unamuno

Duerme, niño chiquito
que viene el Coco,
á llevarse á los niños
que duermen poco.
—Popular.

Duerme, flor de mi vida,
     duerme tranquilo,
que es del dolor el sueño
     tu único asilo.

Duerme, mi pobre niño,
     goza sin duelo
lo que te da la Muerte
     como consuelo.

Como consuelo y prenda
     de su cariño,
de que te quiere mucho,
     mi pobre niño.

Pronto vendrá con ansia
     de recojerte
la que te quiere tanto,
     la dulce Muerte.

Dormirás en sus brazos
     el sueño eterno,
y para tí, mi niño,
     no habrá ya invierno.

No habrá invierno ni nieve
     mi flor tronchada,
te cantará en silencio
     dulce tonada.

Oh que triste sonrisa
     riza tu boca. . .
tu corazón acaso
     su mano toca.

Oh que sonrisa triste
     tu boca riza,
qué es lo que en sueño dices
     á tu nodriza?

Á tu nodriza eterna
     siempre piadosa,
la Tierra en que en paz santa
     todo reposa.

Cuando el Sol se levante,
     mi pobre estrella,
derretida en el alba
     te irás con ella.

Morirás con la aurora,
     flor de la muerte,
te rechaza la vida
     ¡qué hermosa suerte!

El sueño que no acaba
     duerme tranquilo,
que es del dolor la muerte
     tu único asilo.

(1900)


Crib

To the Sick Child
by Miguel de Unamuno

Sleep, little child,
for the crocodile comes
to carry away the children
who sleep little
—Popular Song

Sleep, flower of my life,
sleep tranquilly,
for sleeping/dreaming is for grief
your only asylum.

Sleep, my poor child,
enjoy without grief
that which Death gives you
as comfort.

As comfort and token
of your dearness,
for which she loves you very much
my poor child.

Soon she will come with craving/longing
to gather you,
she that loves you so much,
sweet Death.

You will sleep in her arms
the eternal sleep/dream,
and for you, my child,
There will be no more winter.

There will be no winter nor snow,
my cut flower,
she will sing to you in silence
a sweet tune.

Oh, what a sad smile
crinkles your mouth . . .
maybe her hand
touches your heart.

Oh, what a sad smile
dimples your mouth,
what is it that you say in your dream
to your nurse?

To your immortal nurse,
always pious/saintly, [is]
the Land in which in holy peace
everything rests.

When the Sun rises,
my poor star,
having melted into the dawn,
you will go with her.

You will die with the dawn,
flower of death,
life rejects you.
What beautiful luck!

Sleep the dream that does not end,
sleep tranquilly,
for death is from grief
your only asylum.