Las Clavellinas de Indias

Breve tesoro, rica flor indiana, y sol rizado en hojas, oro florido que tu patria niegas, que a tu oriente despojas y en extranjeros valles te avecinas, y a ser desvelo llegas de laureles y rústicas encinas. Por ti en alado pino, por selvas de coral, pasó animoso el avariento, el vano codicioso, sin que el fatal destino que le asalta, presuma en valles de cristal, montes de espuma.

Brief treasure, Indian rich flower, And sun curled into petals: This flowered gold betrays Its country, robs its eastern bower, In foreign valleys settles, Arriving in the vigils Of rustic oaks and laurels. For this in his winged vessel One, vaunting, avaricious, Comes covetously, travels Through reefs and groves of corals, Ambitious; Nor does the deadly power Of fate, that takes the cudgels, Presume In crystal vales to raise Mountains of spume.