I flee the city, temples, and each place
where you took pleasure in your own lament,
where you used every forceful argument
to make me yield what I could not replace.
Games, masques, tournaments bore me and I sigh
and I dream no beauty that is not of you.
And so I try to kill my passion too,
forcing another image to my eye,
hoping to break away from tender thought.
Deep in the woods I found a lonely trail,
and after wandering in a maze I sought
to put you wholly out of mind. I fail.
Only outside my body can I live
or else in exile like a fugitive.
It's hard and difficult, but sometimes we have to move on. 'Moving on' is not just a quicy phrase to ease someone pain. It's sometimes an impossible task without the help of others who care. Good poem, well written, full of emotion. I felt the pain in the words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely