Rosalia de Castro
I In My Bed Of Thistles. - Poem by Rosalia de Castro
I in my bed of thistles,
You in your bed of roses and feathers,
He spoke the truth who spoke of an abyss
between your good fortune and my wretchedness.
Yet I would never change
My bed for your bed,
There are roses which envenom and corrupt,
and thistles on the road to heaven
though harsh to the flesh.
Translated by Edwin Morgan
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You