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About this poem

Juana Inés de la Cruz

 Love Is a Greater Labyrinth


B. Limosneros, trans.



I love Theseus, and thus

his death do dread - the lighter

torment were to die first, no longer

to fear for his life's threats.

       A thousand times does terror brandish

its icy steel against my throat;

just so many soft deaths I know

in imagining he might perish.

       But this brings not the greatest harm, in honesty -

to be embattled by so many menaces;

another must I fear with more intensity:

       To think - O my soul is so perfidious! -

that he could at any moment murder me,

to whom I've so oft made my life the gift...

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