A poem by Rosalia de Castro
I WAS BORN AT THE BIRTH OF BLOSSOMS
I was born at the birth of blossoms
born when all the gardens grew,
on so very soft a morning,
on a morning April-blue.
So I’m Rosa—that’s the reason—
of the lonely smile, it’s true.
I’m a thorny rose for others;
never had a thorn for you.
When I fell in love—and little
thanks I had of it—I threw
all my life away, believing
you my earth and heaven too.
Why then this complaining, Mauro?
Why are loving looks so few?
If my dying made you happy,
dying’s what I’d learn to do.
All these bitter words about me,
bitter, barbed! I never knew
what it was you really wanted.
Lunacies you’ve put me through!
All I had I gave you. Couldn’t
dull my hungering for you.
Even now, my heart I’m sending,
with the one key fits it true.
Nothing left to give you, nothing;
nothing you could ask me to.
translated by John Fredrick Nims
Poetry by one trick pony
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Written on 2020-09-10 at 03:33
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