Fuera menos penado

I would feel less pain if I did not feel

your complexion to be a lily to my sight, a lily

your skin to be a thistle to my touch, a thistle,

your voice to be bitter fruit to my ear, bitter fruit.

Your voice is bitter fruit to my ear, bitter fruit,

and I burn in your voice and around you I burn,

and I take to burn the time I take to offer you

juniper oil, my voice to yours, juniper oil.

Your hand is thorny bramble if I touch it, thorny bramble,

your body a wave if I reach it, a wave,

near once, but a thousand times not near.

My pain is a heron, a sad and slender heron,

lonely as a sigh and an ah!, lonely,

stubborn in its error and in its misfortune stubborn.