Like undistinguishable horses,
Gleam by my ever-painful days,
As if fade all the living roses,
And die all living nightingales.
But she is, too, upset and saddened,
My single governess – my love,
And under her skin of a satin,
The poisoned blood is now moved.
And if I stand the world I live in,
That is because I have a dream:
Both of us, like two blind children,
Will go to the highland’s rims,
Where clouds are so white and close,
Where only goats run the dales,
To seek forever faded roses,
And hark to lifeless nightingales.
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Comments
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I agree with Nam – perhaps also this is not a great translation but as it stands I would throw this tiddler back in the ocean of words…
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a beautiful poem.
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I feel if this was written today that it would lay in the realm of overused lines and cliche attributes, but since it wasn't used to day, I feel that perception rests in the back some place.
It's a nice piece, and even if I read it back then I'd still contend it was nice, some of the lines seem weak compared to a few others, but there is nothing coherently good about this piece that I can see, however nothing coherently bad either.
It's stuck in the middle.
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