IN THE AUTUMN OF MY SPRINGTIME

I think of how I loved the tender sorrows of your youthful face,

Whose features linger in my mind like the warmth of a summer's day.

And still I murmur softly how our love suddenly fled away,

Like the quick breeze that passes through with the swift flow of April rains.

Although others loved you mostly for your charm and eloquent grace,

I loved you most for the soul in you ravaged by lingering pain.

And loved you not for some personal or superficial gain,

But because the brilliant stars had bid me share the pain of your embrace.

© Angélique Codina