els encants de Barcelona

RIMA II

That Flying arrow
crosses, thrown randomly,
not guessed where
trembling be nailed;

dried tree leaf
snatches the gale,
no one guesses the groove
where it will fall;

Giant wave wind
Ruffles and pushed into the sea,
and wheel and goes, and does not know
what goes looking beach;

trembling light on fences
shines, expiring,
Which of ignoring them
last shine;

That's me, That Perhaps
cross the world without thinking
where I come from, or where
I take my steps.

                                                                                            Gustavo Adolfo Becquer