From the Spanish of Sor Marcela de Carpio.
Let them say to my Lover
That here I lie!
The thing of His pleasure,
His slave am I.
Say that I seek Him
Only for love,
And welcome are tortures
My passion to prove.
Love giving gifts
Is suspicious and cold;
I have all, my Beloved,
When Thee I hold.
Hope and devotion
The good may gain;
I am but worthy
Of passion and pain.
So noble a Lord
None serves in vain,
For the pay of my love
Is my love's sweet pain.
I love Thee, to love Thee,-
No more I desire;
By faith is nourished
My love's strong fire.
I kiss Thy hands
When I feel their blows;
In the place of caresses
Thou givest me woes.
But in Thy chastising
Is joy and peace.
O Master and Love,
Let Thy blows not cease.
Thy beauty, Beloved,
With scorn is rife,
But I know that Thou lovest me
Better than life.
And because Thou lovest me,
Lover of mine,
Death can but make me
Utterly Thine.
I die with longing
Thy face to see;
Oh! sweet is the anguish
Of death to me!
Amor Mysticus
John Hay
(1)
Poem topics: beauty, faith, feel, fire, hope, joy, kiss, life, noble, peace, desire, pleasure, good, place, strong, face, cold, master, hold, prove, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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