The Girl Of Guatemala Poem by Reva Kern

I want, in the shadow of what came to pass
To tell the story in flowers
The girl of Guatemala
Who died of love

There were bunches of iris
And borders of mignonette
And of jasmine; we buried them
In a silk box

She gave to the absent-minded
A fragrant cushion;
He returned, returned married
She died of love

They left loaded on litters
Bishops and ambassadors
After leaving the village in turns
All carrying flowers

She returned to see him
She went out to see him at the lookout
He returned with his wife
She died of love

Like an incandescent bronze
The kiss of farewell
It was her forehead —her forehead
That I have loved most in my life!

He entered the river
In the afternoon
He took her dead to the doctor
They say that she died of cold
I know that she died of love

There in the icy crypt
They put her on two benches
I kissed her sharp hand
I kissed her white shoes

Silent, in the obscurity
She called me the gravedigger
Never again have I wished to see
One who has died of love