A WIDOW'S LAMENT IN SPRINGTIME
By William Carlos William
Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirty five years
I lived with my husband.
The plum tree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red...
But the grief in my heart
is stronger than they,
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them
----------------------------------------------------
EL LAMENTO DE UNA VIUDA EN LA PRIMAVERA
Por William Carlos Williams
La tristeza ahora llena mi jardín
donde veía las nuevas flores
coloridas como llamas
y prendidas como lumbre
Ahora las miro con un fuego frío
que encierra mi alma esta primavera.
Treinta y cinco años
Viví con mi esposo.
El ciruelo es blanco hoy
con masas de flores
Masas de flores
cargan las ramas de un cerezo
y colorean algunos arbustos
amarillo y algo rojo
Pero el dolor en mi corazón
es más fuerte que ellos
porque aunque antes fueran mi alegría
Hoy los noto
y me alejo olvidando.
Hoy mi hijo me dijo
que en los prados
al borde del bosque oscuro
a lo lejos vio
Árboles de flores blancas.
Siento que me gustaría
ir allá
y caer en esas flores
y hundirme en el pantano cerca de ellos.
4 comments:
It's a gringo tree all white, or maybe a coco tree, a wanna be white but can't, dark brown assssss.
10:25 AM
You and the "cocos." Let it go🎵🎶🎶 Some of these people are born cocos. Furthermore, around the corn hole everyone is dark.
I gather that the lady in the poem wants to join her husband. The death of a partner is rough. It is especially rough if you shared everything with an open heart. However, it can also be freeing. The death of my partner freed me from the in-laws. All we can do is roll with the punches and look ahead.
Why such a melancholic poem?
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