Alfonsina Storni

(29 May 1892 – 25 October 1938 / Capriasca)

Sweet Torture


My melancholy was gold dust in your hands;
On your long hands I scattered my life;
My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands;
Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied

How much sweet torture quietly suffered,
When, my soul wrested with shadowy sadness,
She who knows the tricks, I passed the days
kissing the two hands that stifled my life

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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