Forgive me, heart, if I o’erlook your squalls
And quell your utterance. I must ordain
Respite from love, from Mary, and restrain
Your pointless passion, your expression false
Oh can’t you see? We are two varied poles
Irreconcilable, what boot, what gain
In love? can verdure correspond with bane?
What puissance can interfuse our souls?
Oh heart, remit my silencing your call
This love, I fear, has waxed affection vain
A vagrant flame unable to attain
The pith of Mary’s heart, its hopeless goal
Come now, dear heart, forsake your fancies droll
Mary, your love, shall but a dream remain!
Beirut
April 24th 1989
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem