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People in the village called her dark;
to me La Ebonita suited her nice…
Saw her in the field on a cloudy day,
the dusky lass with dark gazelle eyes;
She wore no veil upon her head,
hanging down on her back was her braid.
Dark? So dark may she have been,
I have seen her dark gazelle eyes.
The
billowy gloom descending upon
brought plaintive moos from both black cows –
The dusky lass with concerned steps
came running out of the house.
Frowning ’pon the overcast sky,
she heard a few rumbles passing by.
Dark? So dark may she have been,
I have seen her dark gazelle eyes.
Sudden easterlies went rushing past,
creating ripples on the paddy heads.
Stood I alone by the embankment
with no one around, none else in the mead.
Whether or not she glanced at me,
I only know and so does she.
Dark? So dark may she have been,
I have seen her dark gazelle eyes.
This way dark rainclouds from the Northwest
blow in at the summer’s end;
Come monsoon, ’pon the palm-grove,
a dark and mellow shadow descends;
In this way on a rainy night,
the heart is filled with a sudden delight…
Dark? So dark may she have been,
I have seen her dark gazelle eyes.
To her I refer as La Ebonita,
some other name may others call her by.
Came across her at Mainapara,
the dusky lass with dark gazelle eyes.
’Pon her head she pulled no veil –
the meeting too short for an awkward feel.
Dark? So dark may she have been,
I have seen her dark gazelle eyes. |
