Eugénio de Andrade

1923-2005 / Fundão

Desperate Song

Not even eyes know what to say
to this rose of joy
open in my hands
or in the tresses of the day.

What I dreamt is simply this,
merely water, purple with cold.
Within this grief no rose can fit.
Give me the shadow of a ship.

Translation: 2003, Alexis Levitin
92 Total read