Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint
places on my cheek at night.
the solitary rose of your breath
Federico García Lorca
九九藏书
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a bra九九藏书网nchless trunk, and what I most regret
for the worm of my despair.
Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint九-九-藏-书-网
If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
never l九_九_藏_书_网et me lose what I have gained,
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
Never let me lose the marvel
an九*九*藏*书*网d adorn the branches of your river
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.