O Blanca Virgen

Oh, pure virgin, come to your window.
Come to the balcony, listen to me.
Sir, I shall scarcely hear your singing;
Men’s songs have no hold on my heart;
My heart is a nest of its own enchantment;
It lives in the heights, alone, apart.

Then by magic I’ll turn into an eagle;
Into that heaven on wings I’ll lunge!
No sir-into a golden fish I’ll change me,
And swiftly into the ocean plunge.

Virgin, I’ll turn into the waves of the ocean;
I’ll toss you around and conquer you there.
Then I’ll become a dove, soft-feathered,
And hide myself in the fields of air.

There I shall be as the rain and lightning,
Turning you over and pressing you close.
Then I shall be a nun with cowl and hood;
I’ll leave the world, for the world is gross.

Gross is the world; I’ll turn into parchment,
And touch you in the guise of your Book of Hours.
If sir, you come through the convent’s portal,
You’ll find me dead among the flowers.

-Ballad from Mexican California

Plate from Berkeley Poetry Walk

More details can be found here Click for the item in The ultimate street signs site