The dark swallows

The dark swallows will return again
to hang their nests from your balcony,
again will their wings beat softly on your windowpane,
calling playfully.

But those that paused for a moment in their flight
to see your beauty and my happiness,
those that learned to sing our names...
they... will not return!

Thick clusters of honeysuckle, to your garden will return,
lovelier than ever,
climbing the mud-brick walls, in afternoon,
their perfumed flowers opened full.

But those that were covered with heavy drops of dew,
which we watched tremble and fall,
like daytime tears...
they... will not return!

Love, again, will return
to sound with burning whispers in your ears;
again, perhaps, will your heart
be roused from languid sleep.

But silent and engrossed and fondly kneeling,
as God before his alter is adored,
as I have loved you dear... be not deluded,
love like this... will not return!

This is a Spanish poem by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.

The first time I heard it was at school, and it came back to my mind a few days ago, as I have been looking after my grandmother for a few days, and she gets happy when she sees swallows from the window.

I promise to read her this poem the next time I see her.