Adele, queen-lovely mistress of the deep
when love's loss drags me down into despair
so grave that death seems like a grateful sleep,
your gentle voice brings hope beyond compare.
The pain of love that's not returned burns hot
yet still the heart I've lost, unmoved, stays cold.
They say forget your pain but I cannot
and time just racks it up a hundred fold.
Sweet Edelweiss, lush flower of my dreams,
I feel the beauty of your voice and know
that losing love is not the death it seems
and on life's rubbish heap new flowers grow.
For those enrobed by grief in darkest night,
Adele sings out and shines a starry light.
(A Sonnet for Adele: 'Adele' from the German Adel (nobleness) , Edel (noble))
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem