Quotes About Sorrow

Mi dolor sangraba por las tardes cuando tus ojos eran dos muros, cuando tus manos eran dos países y mi cuerpo rumor de hierba. Mi agonía buscaba su traje, polvorienta, mordida por los perros, y tú la acompañaste sin temblar hasta la puerta del agua oscura.

Dio deve avermi lasciata sola nelle tenebre, perché ti vedo come se non ti avessi mai vista.

Ya suben los dos compadres hacia las altas barandas. Dejando un rastro de sangre. Dejando un rastro de lágrimas. Temblaban en los tejados farolillos de hojalata. Mil panderos de cristal herían la madrugada. Now the two friends climb up, up to the high balconies. Leaving a trail of blood. Leaving a trail of teardrops. Tin bell vines were trembling on the roofs. A thousand crystal tambourines struck at the dawn light.

The he-lizard is crying. The she-lizard is crying. The he-lizard and the she-lizard with little white aprons. Have lost without wanting to their wedding ring. Ah, their little leaden wedding ring, ah, their little ring of lead! A large sky without people carries the birds in its balloon. The sun, rotund captain, wears a satin waistcoat. Look how old they are! How old the lizards are! Oh, how they cry and cry, Oh! Oh! How they go on crying!

Mira el ansia, la angustia de un triste mundo fósil que no encuentra el acento de su primer sollozo.

Yo había matado la quinta luna y bebían agua por las fuentes los abanicos y los aplausos

Amor de mis entrañas, viva muerte, en vano espero tu palabra escrita y pienso, con la flor que se marchita, que si vivo sin mí quiero perderte.

yo, poeta sin brazos, perdido entre la multitud que vomita, sin caballo efusivo que corte los espesos musgos de mis sienes.

Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your breath places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, a branchless trunk, and what I most regret is having no flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my despair. If you are my hidden treasure, if you are my cross, my dampened pain, if I am a dog, and you alone my master, never let me lose what I have gained, and adorn the branches of your river with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

My head is full of fire and grief and my tongue runs wild, pierced with shards of glass.

Death laid its eggs in the wound

The night above. We two. Full moon. I started to weep, you laughed. Your scorn was a god, my laments moments and doves in a chain. The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand. Dawn married us on the bed, our mouths to the frozen spout of unstaunched blood. The sun came through the shuttered balcony and the coral of life opened its branches over my shrouded heart. - Night of Sleepless Love

I will not see it!Tell the moon to comefor I do not want to see the bloodof Ignacio on the sand.

I am the immense shadow of my tears

Grief is love's alter ego, after all, yin to its yang, the necessary other; like night, grief has its own dark beauty. How may we know light without knowledge of dark? How may we know love without sorrow? "The disorientation following such loss can be terrible, I know" Wendell Berry wrote me on learning of Larry's death. "But grief gives the full measure of love, and it is somehow reassuring to learn, even by suffering, how large, and powerful love is.

Que lo raro es vivir, figurarse la eternidad, estrenar una camisa. Que la alegría y el dolor, la música y la tarde, están en su lado y eso es todo.

No hay más hondo dolor, pena más honda, que a la rosa, por rosa, la consuma.

Y hoy que me es imposible volver a esa esquina del recuerdo a cometer el pecado no cometido, a reparar el mal no hecho, me mata el remordimiento.

que se desgrana y sigue con un Allegro fugaz. Sigue un Adagio, un nuevo Largo, un nuevo Allegro… A mitad del nuevo Allegro, pasando del re menor al la menor se me desquicia el alma: un fuerte acorde de dominante que al punto se trueca en piano, e irrumpe el segundo tema, el motivo insoportable con su carga de dolor. Once compases tan sólo de un pasaje que no termina: se derrumba en una cascada de lágrimas…

Ay de los que mueren dormidos en el momento en que no se sueña porque se irán a la nada con nada!

His eyes stayed open imperiously. No one could close his eyelids. The room smoked of grief.

Sorrow, regret and remorse tear down the cells of the body, and poison the atmosphere of the individual.

Love is a battle lost before even begun.

L'amour est un combat perdu d'avance.