Desperate Song Poem by Eugénio de Andrade
Desperate Song
Not even eyes know what to say
to this rose of joy
open in my hands
or in the tresses of the day.
What I dreamt is simply this,
merely water, purple with cold.
Within this grief no rose can fit.
Give me the shadow of a ship.
Translation: 2003, Alexis Levitin
Saturday, August 5, 2017
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4/26/2024 8:40:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
