Резултати претраге

As you see the rose on the branch

As you see the rose on the branch in May
In her lovely youth, with her first flower
Making the sky jealous of its bright colour
When the Dawn with his tears makes the sky pink at start of day:
 
Grace and love rest in her blooms
Perfuming gardens and trees with her scent
But then, battered by the rain or too much heat,
Fading she dies, stripped of petal after petal:
 
Like this you were in your first youth and novelty
When earth and heaven honoured your beauty

My sweet, let us see whether the rose...

for Cassandre
 
My sweet, let us see whether the rose
which this morning had openend
its purple dress in the sun
has retained this evening
the folds of its purple dress,
and its complexion so akin to yours.
 
Alas! See in how little time,
my sweet, it let fall, alas,
its beauty on the ground!
Oh, nature, cruel mother,
for such a flower only lasts
from dawn until dusk!
 
So, if you trust my words, my sweet,
as your age is blooming
in the prime of its youth,
pick, pick your youthfullness.
Just like for this flower, old age
will tarnish your beauty.
 
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