St. John of the Cross (1542–1594)
Dark Night
On a dark night,
anxious, by love inflamed,
oh, what good fortune!,
I left without being noticed,
my house already at rest.
In the dark, and secure,
disguised by a secret ladder,
oh, what good fortune!,
dark and hidden,
my house already at rest.
In the blissful night,
in secret where no one could see me,
nor could I see a thing,
with neither light nor guide,
except the one who burned in my heart.
That is what guided me
more truly than the light of noon,
where he awaited me,
the one who knew me well,
where there seemed to be no one.
Oh night, you guide me!
oh night kinder than the dawn!
oh night that joined
Beloved with beloved,
beloved in the Beloved transformed!
On my flowering breast,
reserved only for him,
there he fell asleep,
and I gave him the gift,
and the breeze of the cedars blew.
When I ruffled his hair,
with its serene hand
the air of the battlement
wounded my neck
and all my senses were suspended.
I remained me and forgot me,
I lowered my face to the Beloved;
everything ceased and I left myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.
Translated by María Baranda and Paul Hoover.
St. John of the Cross (1542–1594) was a mystical poet and one of the “Barefoot” Carmelites, who with his lifelong friend Teresa of Avila, was involved in attempts to reform the order. In the midst of these attempts, he was kidnapped and imprisoned in a cupboard in a Carmelite priory in Toledo, Spain. His escape is at least one impetus for his most famous poem Dark Night. This version comes from The Complete Poems of San Juan de la Cruz (Milkweed, 2021), p.29.
Selected by Amy Frykholm: amy@journeywithjesus.net
