That you thought me once so beautiful
Yet now come not to touch my face;
This is the only teardrop in my bright soul
And it's woe becomes me like all human grace.
Yet my eyes still shine as the brightest sun
After Heaven pours the most torrential rains;
And more brilliant they grow, as a dawn begun
To light the reflections of my darkest pains.
And my poison and remedy were both Cupid's dart
And each defeat and triumph of the greatest thrill;
The war that you waged has now conquered my heart
Yet in it's death, my heart grows brighter still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem