In the end,
A rose bought in a store of amusement,
Captivated her heart for a very second,
But her heart was reclaimed the
Very next second
By a similiar rose and on and on—
The fickleness of the female muse—
She loved me and she loved me not
Until she forgot me entirely
And all of the roses that I unfortunately bought.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Who needs Neruda when they can read you.