There are too many shadows in your visions,
Life does have bits of calm;
Not everything in existence is a wound
From which blood gushes forth.
Fighting has a shadow; and dying
passions, fugitive tenderness,
everything loved that on passing is forgotten
is a source of distressing disappointments.
But, why doubt, if they yet offer,
in the remote, dark future,
calm depths and vivid affection
deep tenderness, the pure kiss
and a woman's hands, that lovers rock
the pink cradles of children?
|This is a translation and has a separate copyright status from the original text. The license for the translation applies to this edition only.
This work was published before January 1, 1923, and is in the public domain
worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.