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Amy Levy - Translated from Geibel
Work rating: Low

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?

Fall`n from Life`s 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 Lethe`s 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.
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