| I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea: | |
| We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can pass by and flee; | |
| And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, | |
| Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that never may die. | |
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| A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose, | 5 |
| Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes, | |
| Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew: | |
| For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam—I and you. | |
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| I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore, | |
| Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more: | 10 |
| Soon far from the rose and the lily, the fret of the flames, would we be, | |
| Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea. |
Comentarios
"...a sadness that may not die."
Tú escribes:
"...a sadness that never may die."
Dios! Estoy tan confundido... ¿a quién le hago caso?
Fuera de eso la versión quedó muy bonita.
Saludotes =)