St. John of the Cross, translated by Rhina P. Espaillat

One darkest night I went, aflame with love’s devouring eager burning” O fortunate event!” no witnesses discerning, the house now still from which my steps were turning. Hidden by darkness, bent on flight, disguised, down secret steps sojourning” O fortunate event!” Hidden by dark, and . . . . Continue Reading »

Apart and not yet a part, I live lightless and unseeing to be consumed out of being. My soul hungers for release from all earthly things created, and above itself elated would live in delightful peace, all but God repudiated. Let them say it, as they may” most joyful news to my heart” . . . . Continue Reading »

The beauty that can be eyed will never be my undoing, but rather what, beyond viewing, only fortune can provide. The taste of what can’t endure does no more, when it’s diminished desire, than make impure the palate, whose joys are finished; sweets whose sweet cannot abide will never be . . . . Continue Reading »

Nativity With God’s Word-the burgeon that swells in her womb” now she comes, the Virgin: if you give her room! The Sum of Perfection Forget created things, but their Creator, never; the core attend forever; love Him from whom love springs. . . . . Continue Reading »

A youthful shepherd, wandering and feeling far from his heart’s content, goes sad and lonely, his thoughts on one he loves, and for her only his breast pierced by love’s wound, deep and unhealing. He weeps-not for the blows that love keeps dealing” no, he has no regrets for the . . . . Continue Reading »

I went in, I knew not where and stayed, not knowing, but going past the boundaries of knowing.I knew not the place around me, how I came there or where from, but seeing where then I found me, I sensed great things, and grew dumb— since no words for them would come— lacking all knowledge, but . . . . Continue Reading »

In pursuit of amatory adventure, hope bid me fly and I rose so high, so hig that I closed upon the quarry. To achieve so great a height, divine adventure pursuing, I flew so far that the doing lifted me clear beyond sight. A flight so extraordinary rendered me too faint to fly: It was love drew me . . . . Continue Reading »

O love, you living flame who wound with tender fire my very soul, down to its depths descending! No longer hushed by shame, come now, to your desire; sunder the veil that parts for sweet befriending.O soft subjection! O wound that joys beget! O gentle hand! O touch with pleasures rife that hints at . . . . Continue Reading »

How well I know the spring that feeds the torrent, though night has fallen! The spring runs from forever, and past finding; how well I know it as it flows down winding, though night has fallen. Since it has none, I know not where its source is, but know that there all things begin their courses, . . . . Continue Reading »

Where have you fled and vanished, Beloved, since you left me here to moan? Deer-like you leaped; then, banished and wounded by my own, I followed you with cries, but you had flown. Shepherds, if you discover, going about this knoll to tend your sheep, the dwelling of that lover whose memory I keep, . . . . Continue Reading »