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Poem by Amy Levy


Translated from Geibel


O say, thou wild, thou oft deceived heart,
What mean these noisy throbbings in my breast?
After thy long, unutterable woe
Wouldst thou not rest?

Falln from Lifes tree the sweet rose-blossom lies,
And fragrant youth has fled. What made to seem
This earth as fair to thee as Paradise,
Was all a dream.

The blossom fell, the thorn was left to me;
Deep from the wound the blood-drops ever flow,
All that I have are yearnings, wild desires,
And wrath and woe.

They brought me Lethes water, saying, Drink!
Drink, for the draught is sweet, I heard them say,
Shalt learn how soft a thing forgetting is.
I answered : Nay.

What tho indeed it were an idle cheat,
Nathless to me twas very fair and blest:
With every breath I draw I know that love
Reigns in my breast.

Let me go forth,--and thou, my heart, bleed on:
A lonely spot I seek by night and day,
That love and sorrow I may there breathe forth
In a last lay.



Amy Levy


Amy Levy's other poems:
  1. On the Wye in May
  2. On the Threshold
  3. The Two Terrors
  4. The Old Poet
  5. To E.


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