Belle Dame Connue Poem by Marta Pessarrodona

I see you in an old photograph:
you were young and beautiful
and you held the poet, then
an infant, in your arms.

The scene was glamorous
and concealed the savage god:
a deity worshipped to the full
by you and yours.

My memory of that afternoon
—of that sallow photograph—
has you in a beautiful hat with an airplane
—when they were called aeroplanes— as a backdrop.

You were fond of me because I loved him
and I clung to you to go on loving him,
to shed light on shadows
that had dimmed certain images.

I would have liked to save you,
the same as him, from the avoidless jaws.
I wanted to put you back into that picture he
was hurtless and you, young and worldly.

You both disappeared without saying goodbye,
leaving my only memories,
this chaos where, all alone, I must find
the people to love the two of you through.
In memoriam Amàlia Soler

Translated into English by Sam D. Abrams