Soneto de la dulce queja

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue eyes or the accent
that by night the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek.

I'm afraid to be on this shore,
a trunk without limbs, and what I most regret
is not to have flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my suffering.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross and my wet sorrow,
if I am the dog of your dominion,
do not let me lose what i have won.
and adorn the waters of your river
with leaves of my alienated autumn

(Federico Garcia Lorca)