What I Gave Up for You
(Spanish poet Rafael Alberti was not happy
when his daughter became a Catholic nun:
here is his poem [translated] on the theme)
For you, I left my woodlands, secret groves,
my sleepless dogs, my exiled cityscapes.
For you, passed over all life’s sweetest grapes,
abandoned steepling cliffs and cool, dark coves.
I left behind a shiver, for your sake. And I left
the savage splendour of wild, untameable fire,
and left behind my shadow on the pyre,
and the hollow, bleeding eyes of the bereft.
I walked away from doves, sad by the water,
abandoned horses stamping on hot sand,
the welcome stinging breeze from off the brine.
For you, I gave up all was ever mine.
So give me, Rome, something at least as grand
as what I lost when I became your daughter.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
