a translation of a Swedish poem by the artist Ernst Josephson (1851-1906)

Black roses

Why are you so melancholy,
you that always were so happy?
I can not be merry any more,
for sorrow has brought me black roses.

There is in my brain a tree of roses
growing, that will never leave me any peace,
and there is a thorn by every stem
which constantly brings me much pain and ire,
since my sorrow brings me all black roses.

But there is a treasure out of roses,
white as death and red as blood,
that keeps on growing into me,
so that I certainly will perish,
since they keep on fretting at my heart
to fill it up and overwhelm it
with the plague of sorrows of black roses.

Poetry by Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2008-02-14 at 20:45

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lastromantichero The PoetBay support member heart!
chrisitan this si a powerful poem and the use of Josephsons painting is so well fitted to your wonderful text a masterly stroke well done regards Mike