I woke this morning to a broken heart;
What I saw with pure joy, was apparently art.
So, of love, you will hear from me no more,
I’ll only long now for the convent door.
I woke this morning with a broken heart;
In your attempts to please, were you playing a part?
If so, my love, you’ll hear from me no more,
I’ll only have eyes for the convent door.
I woke this morning under a broken heart;
And now from this life I wish to depart.
If of my love you would hear no more,
I’ll be heading straight for the convent door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem