The Dove

by Rafael Alberti

The Dove 

The dove was wrong.

The dove was mistaken.

To travel north she flew south,

Believing the wheat was water.

Believing the sea was sky,

That the night was dawn.

That the stars were dew,

That the heat was snowfall.

Your skirt your blouse,

Your heart your home.

(She fell asleep on the shore,

You at the tip of a branch.) 

Invitation To The Air

Shade, I invite you to the air,

Shade of twenty centuries,

To the truth of air,

Of air, of air, of air.

Shadow that never left

Your cavern, or to earth

Returned a jot of that sound,

That at birth brought you air

Of air, of air, of air.

Shade without light, delving

For the profundities

Of twenty tombs, twenty

Hollow centuries without air,

Of air, of air, of air.

Shade, to the summits, shade,

Of the truth of air,

Of air, of air, of air! 

The Collegiate Angels 

None of us understood the secret darkness of the blackboards

Nor why the armillary sphere seemed so remote when we looked.

We only knew a circumference can be other than round

That an eclipse of the moon confuses flowers,

And advances the timing of birds.

None of us understood a thing;

Nor why our fingers were made of India ink

And afternoon closed compasses for dawn to open books.

We only knew that a straight line, if required, can be curved or broken,

And wandering stars are children ignorant of arithmetic.